Uninvited
by Jenny Joker
Summary: It took nearly two years for me to put my life back together. It took two minutes for it to fall apart. Sequel to "Dance With the Devil". Joker/OC
1. Old Demons

**A/N: After an extremely long wait, here is the first chapter to the much anticipated sequel of _Dance with the Devil_. I want to both thank and apologize to all of you who have sent me message after message inquiring about this sequel. I could list all of my excuses here, but it's just not worth it. I know all of you are itching to read this, so I hope it doesn't disappoint. I have many ideas for this story and I just recently had a surge of creativity that was the push I needed to continue. Thank you so much once again! Without further ado..here…we…go**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any __****Batman**** characters or locations. I do own Jessica Wayne, the plot, and any original characters. **

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The lights flashing in my face are blinding as I force my way through the crowd. When I finally emerge from the building, there is a humid stickiness in the atmosphere that causes my shirt to cling to me as a bead of sweat make its way slowly down the side of my face. Looking around, I notice the usually bustling street I'm on is completely desolate. It is then that I know I am dreaming. Though it seems familiar and I know I have been here many times before, it feels completely new as the cold terror begins to stir in the pit of my stomach.

My legs begin to aimlessly carry me down the street. To my right there is a shop window with some television sets in them and I decide to go over and take a look. Everything feels so apocalyptic that I'm shocked to see the same news channel broadcasting live on all six of the screens. As I near closer I can begin to read the headline fixed on the bottom and I slow to a stop.

"JESSICA WAYNE FINALLY SNAPS"

A video begins to play, obviously having been filmed by an amateur on the street due to the grainy quality and shaky motions. Through the shop window, an unfamiliar girl can be seen in some sort of coffee joint screaming and throwing things around the room. My head begins to pound as I notice her pulling something out of her coat pocket. Before I can comprehend what it is, a continuation of loud shots fill the street, my hands shooting up to cover my ears from the horrific sound as I fall to me knees. Staring wide eyed up at the screen, I notice person after person falling to the ground with the girl showing no sign of stopping her rampage. The store window shatters and the cameraman immediately begins running down the street. I can hear the ear-splitting screams of the people in the coffee shop as if they are surrounding me, zeroing in for the kill. My eyes squeeze shut and my throat begins to burn as realization hits that I, too, am screaming. Blurry-eyed, I look back at the screen to see the reporter talking, though I can't hear what he is saying through the glass. I shakily rise to my feet, legs feeling like jello, as I turn to look around the street once more.

I let out a hiccup as I notice something at the end of the street that was not there seconds before. It's a car. No, it's a van. A white van. Despite the fact that my mind is telling me to turn and run away as fast as I can, my legs start pushing me forward against my will. I keep telling myself to stop, but I have no more control over my actions than a puppet on a string. The door to the van opens slowly by itself as I near closer. Just a few feet away, I can see black bags piled in the back all over the floorboard. What catches and holds my attention, though, is the Gotham Times newspaper placed on the middle row of seats in the van. Picking it up with a shaking hand, I see a picture of a funeral taking place with hundreds of people gathered around a lowering casket. It doesn't take long for my eyes to fall on the header of the article and realize who this service is being held for. A tear falls on the paper with a loud plop, smearing the dark ink as the ripples of saltwater disorient the words, followed quickly by another. The paper falls out of my hands back onto the seat as the sound of sirens beckons to me from a distance.

Letting out a shaky sigh of relief, I silently thank God that help is on the way. I don't want to be alone anymore. I want to know what has happened. _I need to know why Bruce is dead._

Turning around, I gasp loudly as the sight in front of me sinks in; there is a firetruck bursting with flames, its siren so loud I have to cover my ears to attempt to block it out. The sound of people screaming in the buildings around me forces me back to my knees. Blood seeps out from underneath the doors and crevices of the buildings, coming towards me agonizingly slow as if taunting me with the death of others. My eyes squeeze together tightly to make it all stop, but the faces of people in their last moments of life come towards me through the darkness. In desperation I realize that this is my fault. All of this pain, all of this chaos – it all dwindles back to me.

I vaguely feel someone's arms wrap around me and instantly all of the outside noise ceases. All I am left with now are the screams and calls for help that are emitting from my own raw throat. I feel myself being lifted to my feet, and though my knees are shaking horribly, I manage to gain enough control to support myself. Strong arms wrap around my waist and I feel instantly comforted. My voice gets a break from the screaming as I quiet myself, my head falling back onto the shoulder of this person whose face is now nestled into my neck. I slowly catch my breath and my heart slows to its natural rhythm. The sounds of the city start to surround us as life seems to go back to normal. The hum of honking horns, voices, and passing cars all blend together and put me at ease. I lift my head and slowly open my eyes.

The familiarity of this particular scenario comes full circle in an instant, however, punching me in the gut as cold chills pass through my body. It is now dark outside, but the burning firetruck is still positioned in front of us, the sound of the fire crackling as it eats away at the huge exterior.

"Isn't it magical? The whole concept of good diminishing…because you know, Jess, nothing can stay pure forever. We all fall into darkness eventually," the voice states directly beside my ear.

_It's him. _With my chest rapidly going up and down as my breathing increases to the point of hyperventilation, I desperately try to pry the arms around my waist away. "Get off of me!" I scream angrily.

A deep chuckle vibrates against my ear. "Oh, how I've missed you," he says before the sound of him licking his lips sends me over the edge. My leg comes forward before reeling back to collide my foot with his shin. He lets out a loud, boisterous laugh before hurling me to the ground and climbing on top of me. I bring my fist up to collide with his jaw, feeling some dried paint cling to my knuckles.

Though I know I am dreaming and I have been here many times before, this is the first time I have ever come face to face with him in the past two years. Usually, I would have woken up by now. This time is different.

Fear takes over all of my senses as I stare into those black eyes, the flames of anger flaring behind them. His rage causes a tremble to course through my body and I am instantly that seventeen-year-old girl again. Bruised and battered. Lost and terrified. I watch as his fist reels back before colliding with my face, sending my head sideways into the asphalt. The pain is unbearable and I cringe as the taste of metallic fills my mouth. Vision blurry, my head is slowly tilted up to face him once again, though this time his mood has changed. His thumb is caressing my bruised cheek soothingly, his eyes taking in my every movement. It is then I notice the flecks of green in the dark orbs.

My head falls back as tears stream down my face and onto the road. There is nothing worse than this. Sobs rack through my body mercilessly as I feel his weight leave my hips. A few seconds later, I muster the courage to open my eyes and figure out what he's doing, only to find someone else standing in his place. With a gun pointed at my head, my sobs immediately come to a stop as I try to assess the situation. Confusion takes over every other emotion as I slowly sit up and stare at the person before me. "Why are you doing this?" I ask quietly.

"Because you couldn't," she responds confidently before cocking the pistol in her hands.

The Joker has been replaced by me.


	2. Insinuations

**A/N: Hey everyone! I want to thank all of you who reviewed so much for your love and support. It means so much to me to hear how excited you are about this sequel, because I definitely am, too. Though there's no Joker appearance yet, rest assured he will be here soon. I just want to take the opportunity to let you all into Jessica's head and life more. I'm excited to explore her character on a deeper level during this story, since I didn't get to work with her as much as I would have liked to in _Dance With the Devil_. Please remember to drop a review if you get a chance! **

**Disclaimer: You know the drill ;) **

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"…Now, Randy, what's the traffic looking like on the Apara Expressway?..."

The sound of Gotham Radio erupting from my alarm clock beside my head jolted me out of my restless slumber. My pajamas were sticking to my sweat covered skin as I struggled for air, my chest rising and falling rapidly. It took a few seconds to be able to move my arm over to hit the off button, my other lying lazily over my forehead. What had just happened? I had not had that dream in over six months and this time it was far worse than before. Never had I come face to face with him. The nightmare usually ended right after I saw the burning firetruck and I always awoke with that dreadful feeling in my gut that I was being watched. Hunted, even. But this was nothing I was ever prepared for. This time I saw what was hunting me and it shook me to the core.

Every part of my body was trembling as I slowly sat up, allowing my feet to touch the cold, polished wood floors that made up my one bedroom apartment in the heart of Gotham. I'd been residing here for almost a year, and despite the initial protests I'd received, everything was going perfectly well. A bit of solitude proved to be the sweetest medicine I could have asked for after being smothered by security, friends, and family for a whole year. Yes, they did help my transition back to normalcy, and for that I will always be grateful. But a woman needs freedom.

Trusting that I now wouldn't fall without the support of my bed, I rose to my feet and headed towards the bathroom, immediately going to the medicine cabinet. My reflection in the mirror revealed that I looked even worse than I felt.

"What a great way to start the day," I murmured to myself before forcefully opening up the cabinet and searching for the bottle of Advil I kept in there just in case. I had always hated taking pills, not because it bothered me or hurt, I just preferred to let any pain I had go away naturally. If I didn't focus on it, my body was pretty good at dulling any degree of agony itself without medication. This had been my reasoning for a lot of things over the past two years. The last time my therapist tried to refer me to a psychiatrist to get a prescription, I explained this process with confidence only to be shut down and told how ridiculous that was in so many words. Before then I had just politely declined numerous offers for medicine, but that day was the last straw.

"Sometimes people need outside help, too, though, Jessica," she explained in that matter of fact, yet calm way. I felt two inches tall whenever she took that tone with me, so my response didn't really come as too much of a shock.

"So, basically, you think I'm not capable of taking care of myself?" I asked, tilting my head to the side in agitation as I anticipated her answer. A part of me wanted her to say, "That's exactly what I think," so that I could be warranted an excuse to leave this oversized room and never look back. At this point I had been seeing a therapist for a year and was beginning to feel smothered by those around me.

"Of course not," she said with a smile. "I just want to ensure that you're getting all the help you need. You've been very open about your ordeal throughout all of our sessions, but sometimes there are underlying feelings that my patients aren't comfortable speaking about."

"Well I'm not one of them," I said, shaking my head confidently. Sure, I'd had some meltdowns over the past twelve months that I hadn't bothered to bring up; some of them were controllable, some of them weren't. Either way, I'd gotten through them on my own terms and I was stronger because of it. "I refuse to become incapable of emotions or constantly dumbed down, because of…because of him."

"The Joker: it's okay to say his name, Jessica. Saying it won't break him out of Arkham or cause you harm." Her smile had faded and was now replaced with that look of concern I was used to seeing during our hour long sessions. She had slightly sat forward in her chair, leaning towards me to make me feel more comfortable.

I sighed quietly and sat back in my seat, the walls of my defenses falling down. "I know that, I honestly do. It's just…I can't explain it," I revealed, my eyebrows coming together in frustration.

"Do you think saying his name makes him more real? Brings him to the forefront of your mind?" she asked with genuine interest.

It had become clear to me from day one that people were always going to ask me questions like this, therapist or not. People are naturally interested in the human psyche and its workings, especially in kidnapping cases. This interest seemed to only be heightened when a raging, high profile lunatic was the kidnapper.

"Yeah, something like that. I just want to put it behind me. I want to forget about it, but I can't. I know I never will, but this is one way I'm trying to do it. Whether I fully realize it or not," I confessed.

"That's completely understandable, Jessica. But we all have to face our demons."

Facing demons is something no one wants to do, especially when said demon lives in an asylum on the outskirts of the city.

Shaking my head, I brought myself back to the present and opened the bottle of Advil. After turning the faucet on, I popped two pills into my mouth, filled my swishing glass with water, and downed them in one swallow. I put the cap back on and placed it in the cabinet before going on with my usual routine. While brushing my teeth, I headed to the kitchen to pick out what I wanted for breakfast. I opened up my cereal cabinet to assess my options: Frosted Flakes, Captain Crunch, or Rice Krispies. Normally, one of these would peak my interest, but I just wasn't feeling any of them today. Grunting, I headed back to the bathroom to rinse out the toothpaste. I'd been standing there so long that my mouth was now full of the foamy paste. It looked liked I was going to be dropping by The Lazy Café before work today instead.

I got dressed quickly since I'd spent too much time in contemplation this morning. I was now sporting black slacks and a burgundy short-sleeved blouse. Even though it was June, I still had to dress to impress. Working as a fashion assistant at Gotham Chic Magazine came with a lot perks, but also a lot of pressure. Lately, however, it was also coming with some guilt. For the past few months I'd been trying to fight off the internal struggle I was having in regards to my career. When I started off as an intern at the magazine, I was ecstatic. For as long as I could remember, fashion had always been something I was interested in, and when I mentioned this to Bruce in passing he immediately gave me the hook up before I could put a word in edge wise. I'd worked hard over the past year and managed to land the title of fashion assistant just two months ago. This basically was code name for keeping all of the stylists happy by ensuring that all samples for photoshoots were received and returned to the right people at the right time. The old me would have given anything to have this position, but I'm no longer the same person I was before. Due to everything that had transpired, I was harboring the strong urge to give something back to my community that didn't involve informing them of the hottest trends for the summer season; no, I wanted to be involved in criminal justice.

Knowing this was easier said than done here in Gotham, I let out a heavy sigh as I grabbed my purse and keys before heading out the door. I didn't have enough time to dwell on this right now. I had to be at work by 9:00AM and it was now 8:15AM. That would be a struggle on a good day in Gotham, plus I had to make a stop at the café to pick up some breakfast. Sure, I could get some intern to run and grab me something when I got to work, but I was too proud and decent to ask someone else to do something so petty for me when real work needs to be done.

I ran down the stairs, out the front door, and scurried to my car as quickly as one can do when in two inch high heels. The traffic on my street wasn't ever bad, so I pulled out quickly and sped the quarter of a mile towards the bustling intersection that was horrid every morning. It took two minutes of just sitting before I was finally able to ease my way out, where I spent ten minutes slowly heading towards the next intersection where I made a left down a side street to take a shortcut to The Lazy Café, which was only a minute or so away from the Gotham Chic headquarters. I was able to drive a consistent forty-five seconds which was quite a feat in Gotham. Granted, I had to wait another two minutes before I could turn onto the street my destination was located, but I managed to arrive and find a parking space at 8:33AM. I jumped out of my car, clicking the lock button as I walked away, and opened the door to the establishment.

The line wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be, with only five people waiting to make their order. The aroma of various coffees and pastries filled my nostrils. It always made me feel warm and fuzzy inside this place, so I couldn't suppress a small smile as I stepped forward one spot as the line shortened to just four ahead of me.

While I was busy trying decide which delicious treat I wanted to indulge in for breakfast, I vaguely heard the bell ding, signaling someone had entered. I immediately heard two male voices behind me, lost in their own discussion.

"Dude, look at the TV," one of them said quickly.

While I was never one to intrude on others' conversations, I couldn't help but glance up at the television set in the upper right corner of the room. A glance quickly turned to full attention, however, as I processed what was on the screen.

A live feed of Arkham Asylum was being shown with the GCN news caption, "Riot breaks out at Arkham: Who's Really in Charge?"

"That place is going to hell in a hand basket," the other man said sadly. "I mean, it was never the Ritz, but come on. My brother-in-law's cousin used to work there, but he quit the day they brought the Joker in. He said there was no way he was going to be confined in a place with that maniac."

"I can't believe that whole fiasco was two years ago! It seems like just yesterday all that was going down."

"You're telling me. I wonder how that girl is doing now. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if she ended up in Arkham." At that statement, my heart stopped for a second before speeding up. I took another step forward as my turn came closer.

"That's awful to say, man," his friend said, though I heard him chuckle. "You wouldn't have made it nearly as far as she did if you were in her shoes."

"I'm completely fine with that! Better than having the Joker fall in love with me," he said with a laugh. My palms grew sweaty as I could feel my face turning redder by the second. The sound of the bell on the door dinging again now sounded muffled as blood rushed to my head and I took another step forward.

"He didn't fall in love with her; maybe lust, but not love. He's a psychopath, Matt, not Romeo."

"I'm only repeating what I've heard for the past two years! Besides, he didn't take her just once, not twice, but three times. Three times! Tell me something wasn't going on between the two of them. If you ask me, they probably did have something going on. My sister was obsessed with that case, and the words 'Stockholm syndrome' came up more than once in all her research."

My breathing picked up as tears prickled the backs of my eyes. Wait, why was I getting so upset about this? These are two nobodies who know nothing about me! I took a deep breath as I took another step closer, now just one more person in front of me. I didn't have to listen to these idiots too much longer. The tears that had been threatening to come forth retreated and I could feel my cheeks going back to their normal color. I'd be damned if I would allow two so called men to bring me down.

With this mentality set, the lady in front of me walked to the left and away, allowing the employee whom I knew by name to see me.

"Good morning, Miss Wayne," the always chipper Selena greeted. "What can I get you today?"

I noticed the two guys behind me abruptly stop talking as my name was side. One of them whispered something inaudible to the other.

"Good morning, Selena. I think I'll take the cheese Danish and a medium iced vanilla coffee," I said, my voice far stronger than I thought it would be just seconds ago.

"Sounds good! It's always nice to mix things up," she said with a bright smile as the young man beside her got everything prepared and she rang me up. "It's going to be $5.63."

I handed her a ten, now smiling myself. "Yeah, it is! Plus, it's always nice to start the day off with something sweet."

"That's very true. I predict the rest of your day is going to go off without a hitch," she said as she handed me my order.

"I certainly hope so," I said with a chuckle. "Have a great day, Selena!"

"You, too, Jessica!" she said sweetly.

I turned around and faced the men behind me for the first time. They appeared to be in their mid twenties and were both adorning looks of utter shock on their faces. "Besides, it doesn't look like I'm going to be committed to Arkham any time soon, so I think it's a great day already," I said, flashing them both a big smile before walking out of the café.

I surprisingly had a new skip in my step as I unlocked my car and drove the mile and a half to work. Traffic had surprisingly settled down a bit, so it only took me three minutes to get there and park in the lot beside the building.

I was signing in with Danny the security guard at the lobby desk by 8:45AM, signaling that I had made perfect timing.

"You didn't bring me anything, Miss Wayne?" he asked in that gruff voice of his as he noticed my bag of food. He was a fifty-year-old former biker who still carried large muscles due to his naturally big build. While he was intimidating on the outside, he was really just a big teddy bear who loved to talk about his two grandchildren when given the chance.

"I will next time, buddy. What would you like?" I asked as I signed my name on the sheet and picked up the complimentary Gotham Times newspaper provided for us every morning.

"Well, what did you get?" he asked. "Wait, let me guess. Some sort of low fat, nasty tasting, healthy pastry that shouldn't even be called a pastry. Or a fruit cup," he said teasingly.

I laughed and shook my head. "Now you know me better than that, Danny. It's a cheese Danish actually. Probably one of the unhealthiest things they sell there and, therefore, the most delicious!" I said with a smirk as I set the pen down and headed towards the elevator.

"That's definitely what I want next time! I've gotta love and respect a woman whose not afraid to eat," he said with a deep laugh.

"Amen! See you later, Danny. Stay safe!" I yelled as I stepped into the elevator being held for me by a young girl I recognized as one of the new beauty interns.

"You, too, Miss Wayne!" he responded from his desk.

"Thank you for holding that for me," I said to the young woman as I pressed the floor nine button, noticing the eight button was already glowing.

"No problem at all. I'm Lacey by the way, Lacey Floyd. I'm-"

"The new beauty intern," I finished for her to which she smiled and nodded. "I'm Jessica Wayne, the fashion assistant."

"I know," she said, her smile instantly falling. "I mean, because you're so high up in the ranks here." I could tell she was growing increasingly nervous, her eyes now as wide as saucers.

"It's fine," I comforted immediately, not wanting our first encounter to become any more awkward or distressing for her. The beauty and fashion departments typically worked fairly close together, so the chances of me working with her in the future were very high. "So, who exactly are you working under? Maybe I can give you some tips," I said with a smile as we made our way up.

I heard her let out the breath she'd been holding. "Umm, Melanie Davis," she stated.

"Ah, you're lucky! You could have ended up with Amy Taylor. Or as she's called here at the office, The Evil Dictator," I informed her, my tone going serious, though a smirk was still held on my face.

She chuckled, "Oh, yeah, I've heard some rumors about her already."

"I'm sure. But, Melanie is extremely nice, even if she's a bit of a perfectionist. On the bright side, she does give major points for hard work and effort. Just make sure you take careful notes when she gives you instructions, so she sees you're serious about the internship. And even if you're having the worst day ever, always smile; she loves happy people," I informed.

"Wow, I feel better already," she said with a relieved smile as the elevator stopped on the eighth floor. The doors opened as she readjusted the purse on her shoulder. "Thank you so much, Miss Wayne. You just made things a lot easier for me."

"You're welcome, and please, call me Jessica," I said. "I'll probably see you around the office quite a bit. Have a great first day!"

She stepped off the elevator, still facing me. "Thank goodness for that! You have a good one, too," she said with a small wave as the door closed.

About five seconds passed before I arrived on my own floor and stepped off the elevator. The sound of phones ringing, the fax machine going off, and a plethora of voices greeted me immediately. The entire floor was rather large, consisting of about twenty nice sized cubicles on the main floor, each adorned with a spacious desk for the writers. There were two large fashion closets located to the far right of the room, each about the size of a small store respectively. On the far left side of the floor was a large conference room where we held weekly meetings to discuss the next publication, though one could be called at any time during the week. Finally, on the back wall were five large offices with glass windows, the one on the far right belonging to me. The largest, located in the middle, belonged to Nancy Bartley, the Fashion Editor of the magazine. She was also the top candidate to take the reigns as Editor-in-Chief one day. Her brother was one of Gordon's top officers, with most considering him his right hand man these days.

I walked over to my office, greeting a few people with a "good morning" as I passed by. While unlocking my office door, Abbie Jenkins - my office neighbor, good friend, and fashion copy editor - walked over to me.

"Hey, girl! You're just little miss popular today," she said as she leaned up against the wall beside me.

"And why is that?" I asked with a grin as I successfully turned the lock and opened the door. I flipped the lights on and walked behind my desk where I layed down everything in my hands before opening the blinds to let some sunlight in and turning on my iMac. Though my walls were white, there were three large framed posters on both sides of the room displaying successful issue covers that I had a major hand in creating. I had a large black desk that held a number of important files and papers. I'd been given a much needed lesson in organization my first day in this position by Nancy, so everything had a specific place. Post-It notes were also very obviously one of my best friends and allies.

"I've been here for half an hour and your phone has been ringing virtually non-stop," she said, feigning exasperation as she plopped down in one of the two comfy chairs situated on the opposite side of my desk.

"Well, why didn't you answer it then?" I asked, pretending to be angry, throwing my hands in the air as I did so.

"Don't get huffy with my young lady," she said sitting up straighter in her seat and pointing a finger at me. "But seriously, check your messages. I'm concerned," she said with a smile as she placed a hand on her heart.

"You're acting like I neglect my phone calls all day or something," I stated as I logged onto my computer.

"You know I love you, but you're also a Gemini, meaning you jump around way too much from one task to another. So don't get distracted. Like right now, you're going to check your email and completely ignore the flashing red light on your phone saying you have messages," she said as she stood up.

I blew out a big gust of air, puffing my cheeks out in the process. "First of all, don't hate on my Zodiac sign. Second of all," I picked up my phone and went to press the voicemail button, "I'm going to check them right now."

"It's a miracle! Someone call the GCN weather department, because it just might snow today," she said as she backed out of the office. "Don't forget, we have a meeting at 10:00 AM sharp."

"I have it written down on this pretty pink Post-It note, thank you very much!"

She offered me a toothy grin as she walked out of my office before popping her head back in half a second later. "One more thing, Jess."

I rolled my eyes and looked up at her. "Yes, Abbie?"

"Good morning!" she said sweetly, tilting her head to the side slightly.

I laughed, leaning my head against my right hand as I pulled my phone up to my left ear. "Good morning to you, too, sweetheart!"

With a wink, she headed over to her office, leaving me to my own devices. I pressed the flashing voicemail button and was instantly met with the automated male voice I had grown accustomed to listening to every morning. I had affectionately names him Trevor.

"You have four new messages. First message…Hi, Jessica, this is Stephanie from HG Studios here in Chicago. I just wanted to confirm order 87364 with you to be sent out this Thursday. I faxed over an updated copy of the order form with all of the available sizes at 7:34AM Eastern Standard time and just wanted to touch base with you over the phone. It's 8:00AM sharp right now where you are, so just give me a call back when you get into your office. Thanks!" A small beep indicated the end of the message as I picked up my blue Post-It notes to write down a reminder to call her back first after grabbing that fax.

"Second message…Miss Wayne, my name is Scott Thompson and I work for the fashion section of Kay Magazine. I was just wondering if I could have the contact information for the designer featured in the March 2012 issue of Gotham Chic on page 86…"

The third message was very similar to this one and I jotted down both individual's contact information, setting them on the back burner of the priority list for now. I would likely give them to an intern today to take care of since it involved a bit of research.

"Fourth message…Hello, Miss Wayne, my name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel and I'm a psychiatrist here at Arkham Asylum. I'm sorry to call you at work and out of the blue, but I would greatly appreciate it if you could give me a call back as soon as possible. I'm very interested in holding a possible session with you in regards to my patient, the Joker, and believe that it would do a lot of good for all parties involved. Just give me a call back at…"

My jaw had dropped in complete disbelief. Though the number to the Gotham Chic headquarters was considered public information, I had no idea how she would have been able to get through to me specifically with just that information as her reasoning. There was no way someone would have allowed her to gain direct contact to me.

I locked my jaw tightly back in place as anger coursed through my blood. I slammed the phone down and put my head in my hands. It looked like I would be making two calls for certain today: one down to personnel and another to Dr. Jeremiah Arkham.


	3. Anger Management

**A/N: I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter and/or added the story to their favorites or alerts. It means so much to me! I received a question about where Bruce is exactly and that gets addressed in this chapter finally. Though I obviously don't know how Christopher Nolan decided to portray Bruce Wayne after everything that has happened since "The Dark Knight Rises" obviously isn't out yet, this is my take on him after all of the devastations he has had to face. Please remember to review if you get a chance!**

**Disclaimer: You all already know what's mine and what isn't. **

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"Oops, I forgot to tell you about Nancy taking the day off tomorrow…Jess, are you okay?" I heard Abbie ask from the doorway, her tone immediately turning serious as she walked over to my desk.

I lifted my head out of my hands and took the opportunity to straighten the stapler on my desk. I didn't really want to look at anyone at this point, friend or not. "I'm fine," I said shortly.

"That sounded reassuring," Abbie muttered as she plopped back down in the chair she had just occupied minutes before. "What happened?"

When I responded by opening my bottom right desk drawer and pulling out an empty manila folder, she let out a sigh. "Do you mind giving this to Erica for me? I have to go down to personnel for a few minutes to handle something," I informed as I placed two of the three sticky notes I had just created on the outside.

"Why do you have to go to personnel?" she asked, her voice revealing obvious distress. "Would you please look at me?"

I stood up and finally allowed my eyes to travel to hers. I had no idea what my face looked like, but I did know I was doing my damndest to stay as calm as possible. That woman's voice was still ringing in my head, which certainly wasn't helping me keep my composure. "I just have to talk with them about who exactly they're allowing to have contact with us here at the office and why," I said, my jaw clenching after I got the words out. "I'll be back in time for the meeting," I added as I walked out of the office, not making eye contact with anyone. I felt bad about treating Abbie that way, but I didn't know how I'd react if I went into detail with her about the message.

I decided to take the stairs down to the second floor instead of the elevator in the hopes of letting off some steam. It suddenly dawned on me that I was going to have to tell Bruce about this, which likely wasn't going to go over well. I ran a hand through my hair as I passed three fitness nuts who took the stairs up to the sixth floor each day, all of them chatting amiably as I stormed past them. I heard a slight hitch in the conversation and could feel their eyes watching my back. There were more important things to worry about than what they thought about me, though.

When I finally came to the second floor landing, I took a deep breath before opening the large door and walked into the much calmer atmosphere than what I was used to working in here. Every department had to work with personnel to some degree, but usually it involved having calls transferred from one person to another. Though I'm sure they caught quite a bit of heat on a daily basis, I'd never had to deliver any blows before.

An older woman with short hair and a look of concentration on her face was seated behind a desk on the far left side of the room. I immediately recognized her as Mary, the head of personnel. She was just the person I needed to see. When she noticed I was headed over to her she put the pen down that she was writing with and focused her attention on me. "Hello, Miss Wayne. I wasn't expecting to see you down here today. What can I do for you?" she asked politely.

"Hi, I actually have a question about a message that was left on my work voicemail this morning." I was trying to steady my voice, but there was no denying the slight shakiness to it.

"Well, take a seat and we can figure it out. Was it a designer or…?" she asked the open-ended question as I sat down in the seat across the desk from her.

"No, actually, it was a psychiatrist from Arkham Asylum. She said her name was Dr. Harleen Quinzel. I don't know how she would have been able to get in touch directly with me, but I really don't appreciate it," I said. I had begun talking with my hands, a habit that tended to become more pronounced when I was upset about something. My mother used to do the exact same thing.

"Oh," she said, obviously taken aback. "I have no idea how she could have gotten through, Miss Wayne. I'm so sorry." She was now speechless, her mouth opening and closing with no words coming out.

"I know this is a bit much to ask, but I would really appreciate it if I could talk to the person who let them through and hear exactly what she told them," I asked. Speaking reassuring words in my head was helping to calm me down. I knew that if I blew up, nothing would get accomplished and I took the risk of losing my job.

"Sure, of course. I'm interested in hearing it myself. What time was the voicemail left?"

"This morning at some point. I guess I should have checked the specific time before I came down here," I said sheepishly. I'd been in such a rush to get out of there that I hadn't even thought to get the information that was obviously going to be needed. My face grew hot as I realized my hard headiness had completed clouded my judgment and now I was just making a full of myself. "Let me run upstairs really fast and get the time for you," I said, rising out of my seat.

"No, there's no need for that. We only had a handful of workers here early this morning handling the phones. Hashing this out right now won't be a problem at all." She stood up and rounded the desk. "Follow me."

I did just that as she led me over to a conference room where there appeared to be a meeting about to start. "Just wait out here for a minute," she said with the nod of her head before walking inside and lightly closing the door.

Now that my mind was clearer, it dawned on me that someone could really get in trouble for this happening. I definitely didn't want anyone to lose their job; all I wanted was information. I would have to be sure to emphasize that when she came back out here. I stood there twiddling my thumbs for just about thirty seconds before the door opened up again, revealing Mary and a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties. He had a tan complexion, which made it clear his face had gone slightly whiter than usual, causing a pang in my heart at his distress.

"Miss Wayne, this is Edward Sampson. He is the one who took the call this morning from Dr. Harleen Quinzel," Mary informed. "Let's head over to my desk so we can figure all of this out."

We ended up sitting right back at the same desk we'd just occupied a minute prior, with me and Edward sitting on the same side.

"Now, Edward, exactly what did this Dr. Quinzel say when she called this morning?" Mary asked.

"Well, she told me that she was interested in interviewing Miss Wayne for a project she was working on over at the asylum. She said that she'd tried calling yesterday, but ended up being put on hold and never gotten back to. You have to understand," he said as he turned to face me, "she said it was extremely important that she got in touch with you. She even said she was planning on contacting the police department if she didn't get through this time. I didn't want to get in any sort of trouble with them." He was rubbing his hands together as he said all of this, something I took as a nervous gesture.

"But Edward, you know we only put calls through from a very specific list of people. Anyone other than that is to have their name handed over to me so I can take care of the situation. Now, I'm sorry to do this, but-"

"It was just an honest mistake though, which I completely understand," I interrupted. I had a feeling about what was going to be said next and I did not want to hear that verdict be passed down. "Anyone would have naturally done the same thing if threatened with an intervention from the Gotham Police Department."

Mary sighed as she looked down at all of the paperwork on her desk. "Yes, I know that. You are one of my most reliable workers, Edward, always have been." She paused before looking back up, her eyes moving from my face to his. "Let this serve as a warning to you. From now on, any calls from suspicious persons are to be brought directly to me. Not only for the convenience of fellow employees here in the building, for their safety as well. You can head back into the conference room, Edward. Thank you," she said.

Edward stood up and gripped the back of his chair. "I'm truly sorry, Miss Wayne. I didn't mean to cause any harm."

"Of course not, I never thought so," I said shaking my head.

With one last nod, he walked back over the conference room. "Thank you for doing that, Mary," I said as I, too, rose to my feet.

"No problem at all. It just looks like I'm going to have to go over protocol in this meeting today. You can never be too safe though," she said as she shook my hand.

We exchanged parting words and I headed back up to my office. It was now 9:30 AM, meaning I had some time before my own meeting took place. As soon as I walked onto the ninth floor, however, I saw Nancy standing at my office door waiting.

"Good morning, Jessica," she said as I came to stand in front of her. "Can I talk to you for a second alone?"

"Of course," I replied. Glancing to my left, I saw Abbie poking her head out of her doorway, sadness written all of her face. I closed my office door and took my place behind my desk. "What's going on?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," Nancy said as she sat in the chair across from me.

"Yeah, I just… I received a call this morning from a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum," I revealed, unable to keep the truth from Nancy. She was one of those people you could just open up to without even knowing her for long.

"From Arkham? What in the world do they want from you?" Her voice was filled with what could only be described as a sort of maternal protectiveness.

"She wanted to know if she could interview me, because she's…she's the Joker's doctor. Apparently she thinks it would be in the best interest of everyone for me to comply." I sat back in my chair, finally allowing my muscles to relax for the first time since I'd heard the message.

"That's just ridiculous. They have no right to have any sort of contact with you and they certainly can't believe that it will help anything," she said angrily.

"Well, Dr. Harleen Quinzel thinks otherwise," I said, pronouncing her name with extra emphasis.

"And you just talked to personnel, right? Did they fire the idiot who let her through to you?"

"No, I didn't want that. It was just a misunderstanding. She basically threatened the poor guy with an interrogation from the Gotham Police Department if he didn't let her through."

"She's either really desperate or just plain stupid if she resorted to that empty threat. I know for a fact that any decent cop here in Gotham would shoot someone dead for even looking at you sideways," she said with a small smile. "Have you called Bruce and told him?"

"I'm planning on going to visit him after work," I said, feeling the tension come back to my muscles at the reminder.

"Good luck, honey. I'm sure he's going to blow the roof off the top."

"No doubt about that," I muttered, knowing she had no idea how close to the truth she was with that statement.

**Eight Hours Later**

After a long day at work, I found myself pulling into the parking garage located beneath the building in which Bruce's penthouse was located. During my lunch break I had called Alfred and told him I planned on dropping in tonight. He was quick to inform me that Bruce had been gone for two days straight without any word, but that he would call and tell him my plans. Using me as bait to bring Bruce home over the past few months had always proved successful, so it didn't come as a surprise when he called me directly two minutes later telling me to come by as soon as I got off work.

Ever since he had made the decision to indefinitely end his role as Batman, he had become a virtually different person. He would often times leave for days at a time without any warning or contact, and though none of us knew exactly what happened while he was away, I figured it had something to do with just trying to find himself again. His identity had become far too wrapped up in his vigilante alter ego than he had ever let on, which was causing friction with his day-to-day relationships. The losses and pain we all experienced two years ago certainly did not end with me. Everyone in this city was affected to some degree and Bruce was one of those on the higher end of the scale.

I took the elevator up to the penthouse with a doorman after signing in at the lobby. As we neared the top, I couldn't help but look up through the glass ceiling to gaze at the spot where at one time a large piece of steel stuck out in the size of a fist. When the ding signaled our arrival, I shook my head to make the memory of that night go away as images of a blonde haired, handsome man came to mind.

The doors opened to reveal a polished looking Bruce adorning a big smile on his face. "Well if it isn't my lovely cousin. You've been hiding away in that tiny apartment for far too long," he said as he enveloped me in a hug. He placed a kiss on the top of my head and I couldn't help but wonder why he was being extra affectionate tonight.

"Hey now, it isn't tiny. It just so happens to be the perfect size for me, in fact," I said defiantly as I returned his hug. I could still feel the hard muscles underneath his suit despite the fact that he no longer, in theory, needed them. His workout routine was probably no less rigorous than it used to be knowing Bruce, though.

"Of course it is!" he said with the roll of his eyes as he pulled away. "I hope you don't mind having seafood for dinner. I've had steamed shrimp, bay scallops, and clam strips prepared for tonight," he informed as he led me over to the dining room, his arm draped around my shoulders.

"Sounds delicious," I said, my mouth watering as the aromas sneaking out from underneath the kitchen door approached us.

"You've been eating right, haven't you? If I find out you've been having fast food every night, Jessica-"

"Don't worry about it. Besides, McDonald's double cheeseburgers are a girl's best friend," I teased.

"Let her be, Master Wayne," I heard a distinct British accent announce as we entered the dining room.

"Alfred," I said affectionately as I gave him a hug.

"It's good to see you, Miss Wayne," he whispered in my ear before holding me out at arm's length. "It looks like she's doing quite well for herself," he said, giving Bruce a pointed look.

"Well looks can be deceiving," he said, causing Alfred and I to roll our eyes at one another.

The meal proved to be even more delicious than I anticipated as I scoffed as much down as possible without looking like an indulgent pig. Though I would never admit it to Bruce, he was right in his assumptions that I was likely consuming too much fast food. Granted, it was hard to live up to his standards of eating when he had a live in, highly trained chef to make all of his meals for him.

When we were finished eating and the conversation was lulling down, I figured it was time to get to the nitty gritty of why I'd come here tonight. I had managed to push this inevitable conversation to the back of my mind throughout our time together, so I was quickly trying to find some way to bring it up. I had always been a rather direct person, so adding fluff was out of the question, meaning it would be best if I just went straight into it.

"I got a message today at work," I started, suddenly finding an interest in the wood patterns on the table. I could feel his eyes on me as he set his wine glass down on the table.

"From whom?" he asked, his interest obviously peaked by my sudden professional tone.

I looked up at him, taking a deep breath before answering. I knew looking him straight in the eyes would serve me better than acting sheepish about the whole thing. Bruce responded better to strength than weakness, no matter how distressed the person may actually be inside. This instinct was only heightened when it came to me, though I feared his overly protective instincts would always lead him to act rashly no matter what mask I was wearing. "A doctor from Arkham Asylum," I answered, my voice steady.

His eyes narrowed as his mouth opened slightly. "What?"

"She wanted to know if she could have a session with me." The intensity of his gaze was becoming rather overbearing. My heartbeat quickened as I glanced down to see his hands ball into fists.

"Why would she have any interest in you? What's her name?" he asked quickly. His voice now had a gruff quality to it that I hadn't heard since the showdown that took place on the deck of that tall building two years ago.

"Her name's Dr. Harleen Quinzel. She's…she's the Joker's psychiatrist."

The silence in the room that occurred in that moment was one of the most terrifying sounds I had ever heard in my life. Bruce's chest was visibly rising and falling, his knuckles now pure white. His dark brown eyes had a shadow casted over them, making them appear almost black. I had never been on the other end of that stare, nor did I ever want to be again. Though I knew it wasn't really directed at me, I couldn't suppress the cold chill that rippled through my body.

A loud bang caused me to jump as his fists collided with the table. "There's no fucking way she can get away with this!" he raged as he stood up quickly, causing his chair to fly backwards. "How dare anyone think they have the right to talk to you about that scum? I'm going to have her fired and banned from ever stepping foot into this city again! No one in the civilized world will hire her again for the rest of her miserable life!"

He had stormed out of the dining room before I could comprehend any of his movements. Alfred rushed in from the kitchen, his face in complete shock. "What in the bloody hell is going on in here?" he asked breathlessly.

I got up and ran in the direction in which Bruce had just taken off, shooting Alfred a pitiful look as I did so. I found him seconds later pacing in front of the expansive window in what could only be described as the living room, though the entirety of the space technically took up the front of the whole penthouse. He was searching for a number on his phone, eyebrows knitted together in anger and lips pursed.

"Bruce, I'm going to deal with it myself. I promise, everything will be fine-"

"No, Jessica, everything won't be fine until this bitch gets put in her place. If I could only find Jeremiah Arkham's fucking number!"

I had never seen Bruce this angry before and it scared me. He was never one for cursing either, so his overly excessive use of it was just putting me even more on edge. Tears prickled the backs of my eyes, though I told myself sternly to not allow any to fall. "No, Bruce! I can handle this. I'll call him tomorrow at a decent time. It's almost 9 o'clock. This can wait!"

"It can't wait and I want to deal with it now," he said as he placed the phone to his ear.

Without thinking, I ran over to him and snatched the phone out of his hand. I frantically pressed the end button on the touch screen until the words 'call ended' flashed.

"Give that back to me," he said quietly, menace dripping from each word. He extended his arm as I pulled the phone back out of his reach.

"No, you're not thinking clearly right now. You're angry, which I understand. I was the same way this morning when I heard the message, but-"

"Jessica, hand me the phone right now," he interrupted.

"Master Wayne, I'm not sure of the circumstances right now, but Miss Wayne is right. Your temper is getting the best of you and you are not in the right state to speak to anyone at the present time," Alfred said as he stepped up to stand beside me.

Bruce was still glaring down at me with his hand in midair. I refused to back down now, though, my fear subsiding for the moment. "I've been planning all day to give him a call tomorrow as it is, Bruce. There's no need to get anyone fired for doing their job."

"Their job?" he retorted snidely. "That's not a job; it's harassment." He let his hand fall to his side as he appeared to think about something for a moment. "I'm going to call Gordon and let him know exactly what's going on. This is just beyond ridiculous."

I shook my head, feeling well beyond overwhelmed at this point. "There's no need to worry him with this."

"It's his job to take care of people like her and it's my job to take care of you!"

"No, it's my job to take care of myself. And I don't appreciate this little scene you're making, since apparently you don't think I'm doing a very good job of that." I threw his phone down on the nearest couch as I turned around and headed towards the elevator.

"Jessica," I heard him call from beyond me. I didn't show any signs of slowing down, though. I wasn't going to be treated like a child.

I heard footsteps quickly approaching behind me and it didn't take long to feel his hand wrap around my right arm. He stood in front of me a second later, blocking my path.

"You know I don't think that, Jess," he said, his voice now level.

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it." I pulled out of his grasp and crossed my arms in front of my chest. I stared up at him with a hard expression.

"It's not that I don't think you can handle yourself, because I know you can. We have the same blood flowing through us, remember?" he said, a tiny smirk playing on his lips with those last words. "I just don't want anyone messing with you or thinking they have the right to push you around. You're like my little sister, Jess."

My guard slowly fell to the ground as I nodded, my expression softening. "I know."

A moment of silence passed between us as we both allowed ourselves to calm down. "There's something that I need to tell you, too, Jess."

I looked up at him. "What's that?"

"Something got sent to my office a couple of days ago and I couldn't track who sent it. I spent the last two days trying to find out where it came from, but I couldn't," he said with a sigh.

My arms fell to my sides as I took in his defeated expression. "What was it, Bruce?"

He walked over to the coffee table and picked something up. His back was to me, blocking my view of what it was. When he just stood there for a few seconds without a response, I looked over at Alfred who now appeared very uncomfortable. He glanced at me before turning away and walking back into the dining area, now out of sight. "Bruce?" I prodded, getting more worried by the second.

When he turned around, my eyes fell on what was in his hands. My mouth fell open, the sound of blood rushing to my head as I took in the sight before me. It was a simple dark brown leather book with the word 'Journal' written on the front cover. The last time I had seen it, it was sitting on the bookshelf in my room over two years ago. Coldness swept over my body as I recalled all of my nights spent feverishly replaying my days onto those pages. More than that, all of my dreams, my failures, my sins, my most personal thoughts…everything was recorded in there. I felt a single tear slide down my cheek as I finally looked up at Bruce.

I was only able to make one word come out of my mouth. "How?"


	4. Rising to the Surface

**A/N: Again, I want to thank all of my reviewers, as well as everyone who has added this story to their favorites/alerts. I'm going to be really busy this weekend, so I don't know if I'll be able to update until Monday. Hopefully my consistency over the past few days will make up for this short break Please remember to review if you get the chance! **

**Disclaimer: You all already got it!**

* * *

A loud beeping sound radiated throughout the penthouse as I struggled to regain the ability to breathe properly. My eyes were still glued to that leather journal resting in Bruce's hands, unable to look away from its scuffed up cover. This was a feature that had not previously been there, giving off the impression that it had been through a lot since I'd seen it last.

"Who could that be?" Bruce muttered to himself. He set the journal down on the back of the plush sofa before walking over to the intercom system by the elevator. "What is it, Larry?" he asked, pressing the button that linked him to the lobby downstairs.

"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Wayne, but Commissioner Gordon and Detective Bartley are here requesting to see you," the voice responded from the other end.

"Send them on up. Thank you, Larry," Bruce said before fast walking back over to me. "Did you tell anyone that you would be coming here tonight?" he asked hurriedly, though his voice was soft.

For the first time since its reveal, I took my eyes off of my previous possession and looked up at Bruce. "Umm…both Abbie and Nancy were standing outside the room when I talked to you this afternoon. They knew I was coming here to tell you about the phone call," I revealed, my voice unnaturally quiet.

"Nancy Bartley," he said to himself before picking up the journal again. "I was holding off on going to Gordon about this, but I guess now's the time."

"Yeah," I said, still in disbelief.

"Listen Jess, everything is going to be okay. This isn't the end of the world and with Gordon helping us we'll be able to kill two birds with one stone. We'll handle this psychiatrist and find out who sent this to me. I promise," he said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. His words did calm me, but I couldn't suppress that feeling of dread in my gut.

"I know," I replied weakly. The elevator dinged and opened up, revealing two haggard, yet determined looking men. I could tell by the expression on their faces that something was wrong, which just egged on that voice in the back of my mind telling me everything was quickly falling apart around me.

"I'm sorry for just barging in like this out of the blue, Bruce," Gordon said, wiping a bead of sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. "You remember Detective Bartley." He signaled the man beside him whom I knew to be a thirty-four-year old father of two. Though he was my boss' baby brother, I had never seen him outside of looking at his picture periodically in the Gotham Times.

"Of course," Bruce said, shaking his hand formally. "What's going on, Gordon?" he asked, cutting straight to the chase.

"Well, Miss Bartley informed her brother today about the phone call from Dr. Harleen Quinzel that Jessica received this morning at work. Let's just say she's been under our radar for quite some time now," Gordon informed, sitting down on the coach in exhaustion.

"Your radar?" I asked, following suite and sitting on the loveseat across from him.

"We fear her involvement with the Joker is extending beyond professional. One of the guards we have stationed inside Arkham has been reporting that she stays there well beyond closing hours, which is normal for any worker, but she doesn't just stay in her office doing paperwork," said Gordon.

"Dr. Jeremiah Arkham is too afraid to give her the boot, though. He doesn't know if it will set off a chain reaction or not. After this riot that's just gone down, he's especially on edge about everything," Officer Bartley explained further, sitting down beside Gordon as Bruce took the seat beside me.

"This riot, who was the one behind it?" Bruce asked suspiciously. The article in the paper this morning that I skimmed was very vague about the details of the whole shenanigan, sparking my own interest in what exactly was occurring behind those dark walls.

"From what we understand, just some low level threats. A fight broke out between two young men during a group session and things just escalated from there somehow. Security guard numbers are down drastically. They're the lowest numbers the place has seen in decades. People don't want to get tangled up in that mess up there anymore than I do, so they're quitting in record numbers. The fact that Dr. Quinzel would call and ask for you to come in the day after this happened is extremely suspicious, though. How would she even expect to gain clearance for you to walk into those doors at a time like this? She's only an intern, after all," Gordon ranted, shaking his head in frustration when he was done talking.

"I don't know if Nancy told you this, but she threatened the personnel worker who took her call this morning. She claimed she would get you guys involved if he didn't connect her to my phone line," I said, glancing at Bruce who was staring over at me intensely. I hadn't had a chance to reveal these details to him before he stormed away, so I figured he was interested in hearing all of them now.

Gordon grunted, obviously having the same mentality Nancy had earlier when I told her about this exchange. "There must be something really wrong with her to say something so idiotic. Her desperation is obviously clouding her judgment." He ran a hand through his hair before finally noticing Bruce was holding something. "What's that?" he asked.

Bruce looked down at the journal as my heartbeat sped up. It had just dawned on me for the first time that there were things written in there I never expected anyone else to read. Ever. I stiffened as I wondered if Bruce had read any of the entries. Certainly he would have had to open it and read something to learn that it was mine. My palms suddenly felt very sweaty.

"This was sent to my office at Wayne Enterprises two days ago," Bruce explained. "It's Jess' old diary."

Gordon's hand had paused on his head, his face in shock. "Is it from…?"

"My old house. I don't know how someone would have been able to get it. The last time I remember seeing it was on my shelf…I don't know when that was though," I said, racking my brain for how someone could have gotten their hands on it.

"You'd never noticed it missing before?" Detective Bartley asked as he pulled out a pad and pen. He flipped to a new page as he began scrawling words across it rapidly.

"No, I honestly didn't. Even when I was unpacking stuff here, I never noticed it was gone," I said, just as shocked as Bartley seemed. How had I not noticed it was missing? Granted, consistency was never one of my strong points, so I certainly didn't write in it every day. I often went months on end without picking it up to be honest.

"Her parents had just died, Bartley. The whereabouts of her diary were the last thing on her mind," Bruce spoke up, going into defense mode. He laid his arm behind my head as he moved forward on the couch, seemingly wanting to protect me from being questioned too harshly.

"Of course," Bartley said as he shot me a sympathetic look. "Can we take that in for evidence?"

I looked from Bruce to Bartley to Gordon, the latter still looking shocked by this turn of events. "It was completely untraceable. Whoever sent it obviously wanted to remain completely anonymous," Bruce said as he handed the journal over.

"You still have the packaging it came in?" Bartley asked as he examined the outside covers carefully.

"Yes, of course," Bruce said as he stood up and walked over to a desk located on the back wall. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the bottom right hand drawer, pulling out a large Ziploc baggy with brown wrapping paper in it. "I had some of my guys in the lab scan it for prints, but they came up with nothing."

"Well, we'll just have our men go over it again just in case," Bartley said as he took it from him and sat it on his knee.

I couldn't believe this was happening. After two years, these things all decided to come up at once. Who had sent this diary? How had they gotten a hold of it in the first place? And, most importantly, what were they hoping to gain by letting it be known they had it in their possession all this time?

I looked up at Gordon who was starting at me blankly, obviously lost in his thoughts.

"You guys aren't going to read it, are you?" I asked, not able to hold the question in any longer.

All three of the men were now looking at me, none of them speaking up.

"Well…is there any information here that could have been cause…I mean…" Bartley couldn't finish his sentence, opting to look at Gordon for help instead.

"Jessica, what Bartley's trying to say is…the Joker once said his motive for kidnapping you was in this journal. You told us that yourself two years ago. I have a suspicion that he is somehow behind all of this now, too. If there's anything in here that could give us answers after so long…" he said, trailing off as he looking at me pleadingly.

My kidnapping had not only affected me, it had affected him, too. Gordon had been the driving force behind my final rescue, never giving up on me no matter how helpless the fight seemed to be. He never gave up on anyone. After all this time, he was still haunted by the Joker just as much as I was, if not more. I felt an indescribable amount of gratitude to him and always would, but how far was I really willing to go to help him get answers?

I sighed as I looked back down at the journal now residing in the detective's hands. My mind was going a mile a minute trying to come up with some solution, when it finally hit me. "What if I read through it again? I mean, I can't imagine what could be in there that would have given him cause to take me, but please, just let me try. I don't want everyone reading all of my thoughts," I said pleadingly, trying to stay as strong as possible even though I was cringing inside.

Gordon stared blankly for just a second longer before giving me a small smile. "Of course that'll be fine. I…I hadn't even thought about that," he said with an ashamed expression. "Be sure to look for any tampering, especially. Writing in the margins, anything at all that could clue us in on who's had this for so long."

I nodded in understanding. A part of me wished that I would find some answers of my own in those pages, while the other part pleaded silently that there wouldn't be anything. That this would all end here.

"There's still something else we have to take care of, too," Bruce said.

"Dr. Quinzel," Bartley finished.

"Exactly. I think we should go down there tomorrow and-"

"I'll go. By myself," I said, reaching over and taking the diary out of Bartley's hands.

Words of protest immediately came from both Bruce and Gordon's mouths.

"I don't care what either of you say," I said, speaking over them. "It would be best for me to go down and handle this privately. There's no need to make a big deal about it by having everyone know that they two of you were strutting into Arkham. It would cause too much of a scene and have everyone talking. That's probably exactly what the Joker wants," I said.

The two men looked like they were both about to go into a rant when Bartley beat them to the punch. "She's right," he said, shocking even me. The three of us stared at him as he nodded absent mindedly. "The picture of you two walking in there would be on the front of page of the Gotham Times the very next morning. Shoot, it would be on GCN that hour. We can't afford to have this getting out there and be made a big deal of. Whoever sent this diary wants to start something and we can't aid fuel to their fire. This was one of, if not the biggest case in Gotham history. To bring it back up again would just cause…well, it would cause…"

"Chaos," I said quietly.

"Yeah, chaos," Bartley said, pointing at me before slapping his hand back down on his knee lightly.

Gordon and Bruce contemplated this notion silently, though they both still looked rather unconvinced.

"Let me get this straight: you're suggesting that Jessica just walk into Arkham by herself, while we what? Hope for the best?" Bruce said, now standing up and pacing. "There's no way."

"We could have Cash meet her as soon as she stepped foot in the building, Gordon," Bartley suggested.

"Cash? Who's Cash?" Bruce asked, glaring down at Bartley.

"He's a corrections officer at Arkham. We placed him there a year ago. He's a great guy, Bruce. Not corrupt or insane. He's the one keeping us updated on Dr. Quinzel," Gordon explained. He took a deep breath before nodding to himself. "He would make sure nothing happened to her. I would bet my life on it," Gordon reassured.

"So you're all for this idea now, too? Do you have any idea how ridiculous this sounds? She'd be in the same building as him and if he found out about it he would do anything in his power to break out," Bruce said, his face turning red from anger.

"He would never have to know I was there, Bruce. This Dr. Quinzel woman would be in the meeting with me, so Cash could keep tabs on her. I would be long gone before he ever knew I was there," I said.

"It just doesn't sound like a good idea to me…" Bruce said.

"I would be out of there at the first sign of trouble," I said, becoming more confident in the idea myself.

Bruce crossed his arms and turned away from us. Gordon, Bartley, and I exchanged glances before staring at his back in anticipation.

"Fine," he began after a minute of silence, "but I'll be close by. And so will you two." He turned around and stared at the men in question pointedly. "We'll be stationed in our cars a half a mile from the gates the whole time. We'll have constant connection with this Cash the entire time. I suspect you already have earpieces that can be programmed for all four of us, right?"

"Absolutely," Gordon said, standing up to join Bruce. "We can meet under the bridge tomorrow before heading over."

"Okay," he said before turning to face me. "And I want you constantly on guard. If anything starts to feel even slightly weird, you leave. You'll set things straight with this woman and then get out of there. You under no circumstances are to let her take you anywhere in that hospital, do you understand?"

"I understand," I said. Even though I was ready to set things straight, I was still nervous to come face-to-face with this woman. The way Gordon painted the picture she was growing more unstable by the day. It sounded like she was a loose cannon waiting to blow. I just hoped I wouldn't be the one to set her off.

* * *

After Gordon and Bartley left, it took a half an hour to convince Bruce that I was okay to go home. He insisted I stay in my old room for the night and go straight to sleep. I would need all of the energy I could muster tomorrow. I fought back with the argument that I would sleep better in my own bed and that I just needed some time to think things over. Even though he wasn't happy about it, I managed to leave before 11 o'clock.

I did believe that I would get more sleep in the comfort of my own bed, but my mind was really on just one thing: reading that diary.

It had been over two years since I'd flipped through those pages, so having it sit in front of me on my bed now felt completely surreal. I also grew uncomfortable as I remembered that the Joker himself had touched these pages, devoured the words composed on their pages in my old bedroom. My old sanctuary.

A cold chill ran down my spine as I looked at the journal in disgust. How could he have violated my privacy in that way? Wait, this was a psychopath we were talking about. He had done far worse things to me than read my diary. I pulled up the left leg of my pajama shorts just a tad to reveal a scar in the shape of a 'J' that still resided there. Running a finger over it, a lump formed in my throat as tears burned in my eyes.

This is why I was going to read this diary: to grow stronger. My strength relied on knowledge and I had a feeling that was going to be gained from something that was in this diary. Something that had been kept hidden away, whether it was by my own hand or someone else's I didn't care.

I opened up to the first page and smiled slightly at the stereotypical beginning of a teenage girl's diary. The date was July 5, 2006. I was fifteen-years-old.

_Dear Diary,_

_I got this journal for my birthday over a month ago and I have yet to use it. Since yesterday was absolutely epic I figured it was finally time to start it off. So it was the Fourth of July yesterday and we went to my cousin's house to go swimming…_

There was nothing at all extraordinary on this page and I shook my head as I read through my account of how "hot" I had thought my cousin's next door neighbor was. I flipped through the next twenty entries without any instance before coming to a sudden halt.

The date was October 17, 2007. Consistency was never one of my strong points, so I'd gone months between some entries. This one, however, involved something I had completely forgotten about. Something that seemed so big to me at that moment, but just slipped away from my mind in time.

_Dear Diary,_

_Have you ever just wanted to do something so drastic just for the sake of doing it? Not to prove a point or take a stance against something – just to DO IT! Just to see what would happen. That's how I feel right now. _

_So many things in life are uncertain, but there are some things that exist that nobody wants to deal with or face: pain and discrimination, lies and deception. My parents brought all of those down on me today. They blatantly lied to my face at dinner about why they don't want me to hang out with Ashley anymore. According to them, they heard that she had been caught smoking behind K-Mart, where she works, and almost got fired. They said she's nothing but trouble and will just pull me along a bad path with her. That's all lies of course. The truth is, they don't want me hanging out with Ashley, because her parents don't make as much money as they do. Point blank, no buts about it. They're ashamed to say that their daughter's best friend's parents aren't members of the country club or stock holders. They can't stand the fact that I'm choosing to make friends with people just because I want to be friends with them. Not because of their last name or income. _

_So this all got me thinking: what would happen if I tried to shake things up? Not to hurt them, but just to see what they'd do. It's fascinating to see the lengths someone will go to to keep their own little world perfect. They don't care about how much they have to lie or cheat or steal – so long as they come out on top, there's no harm to it. In fact, they'll turn right back around and chastise everyone around them once they're back in the center of their world. Everyone who they perceive as lower than them is subject to their wrath. Hang them up in front of the whole town and rip them apart. Just to prove a point. Just to prove that they're better than them. Just to prove that they can. _

_I want to turn it around on them. I want to take their world and flip it upside down just to see where all the pieces drop. It would be so much fun to watch them scramble, all of them. Not just my parents. All of them are phonies. They don't want to help anyone or make a difference. They want everything to stay the exact same way it is now. Shoot, if they made a true difference they wouldn't be able to keep their two yachts and house in the Hamptons. It makes me sick. I'm sick of living here and sick of hearing about money all the time. I want it all to stop. I want to be the one to bring an end to it. Bring some chaos into the mix and just see what happens. _

My mouth was now dry from having been open for so long. The only sound in the entire apartment came from me breathing in and out rapidly. The words that I had written were shocking, yes, but that wasn't the main cause for the sick feeling in my stomach. Rather, it was the red ink that was splayed in various parts of the page. A few words had been circled here and there, sentences underlined and arrows drawn. The margins had mostly squiggles drawn on them and little pictures of faces, some happy, some angry. Most of all, it was what was scrawled across the top in that blood red ink that made me run to the bathroom and empty my dinner into the toilet. The handwriting was chicken scratch at best, but I could read it clearly.

_Anything you want Jess. The chaos will ensue. _


	5. Facing Foes

**A/N: I know I said I would update Monday, but, naturally, life got in the way. Meaning I ended up having to work every day this week. I had to do a bit of research for this one when figuring out just where Arkham is located. Since in the video game "Batman: Arkham Asylum" it is located on an island, I figured I would go with that same idea. Anyway, I want to thank everyone who reviewed or subscribed to an alert/favorite. You guys make me so happy :D I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's by far the longest I've ever written, so I hope it makes up for the delay; plus, a certain character finally makes an appearance! Please remember to leave a review if you get the chance.**

**Disclaimer: You already know it!**

* * *

The next morning, I woke up with a raging headache that was making the notion of having to get out of bed seem absolutely exhausting. My eyes were sore and red from the endless tears I'd shed the night before. Numerous questions had roamed my mind, causing an influx of emotions. Now, however, I was completely numb; living with the after effects of all of my realizations may have very well been worse than when I was experiencing them in the first place.

But, I found the motive. Just that one page encompassed everything there really was to know about my case. It was the beginning, the end, and everything in between. While a small part of me was glad I finally knew the answer, another part of me was ashamed. I loved my parents more than anything in this world and there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't know they loved me, too. That entry represented a one time, selfish idea that flashed into my head just as quickly as it went away. I had made the mistake of writing it down on paper, though.

How was I to know that a psychopath would come barging into my house uninvited and read my diary? How was I to know that it would affect him enough to want to murder my parents and kidnap me? I didn't.

I buried my head in my pillow, fully aware that I was supposed to be meeting the others in just a half an hour. It would probably take that long just to get to the location under the bridge. With a loud grunt, I rose from the bed and began getting ready. I just had to remember that there were still more pieces to the puzzle that needed to be solved. Finding this information had probably just opened up a whole topic that the Gotham Police Department would go crazy over.

A horrible lurch shook my gut as I realized the people who were going to be reading these words. My words. I sounded like a crazy anarchist, just like the Joker. I gripped the sink hard as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my face paler than I'd seen it in a long time. The greater good had to be my main priority, not my own sense of pride. I had to let them see that page, just like I had to go speak with Dr. Harleen Quinzel today.

* * *

I arrived at the meeting location approximately ten minutes late, my phone ringing in my purse for the third time since I'd left my apartment. It had become against the law to talk on a cell phone while operating a motor vehicle just a few months ago, so I technically wasn't allowed to answer unless I wanted to pull over and get there even later. This excuse just aided my want to put off talking to Bruce or anybody else for as long as possible.

When I stepped out of the car I found myself immediately surrounded by the three men in question, all adorning various degrees of worry on their faces.

"Why are you late?" Bruce immediately asked, his eyes roaming my face rapidly. I knew I looked rather worse for wear with my hair up in a lazy ponytail and no makeup on except for a bit of chapstick. I had on a pair of blue jean shorts and a light blue, v-neck shirt. It probably wasn't the proper attire to wear, but I had to get ready in a rush and they were the first things I saw. Plus, I didn't even realize until I stepped outside that it was currently 77 degrees and it was only 8:40am. Call it destiny.

"My alarm clock didn't go off," I lied easily, "so I got here as fast as I could."

Bruce nodded, but the look on his face said he suspected there was more to the story than that.

"Alright, well we've got everything set up between the three of us and Cash," said Gordon, droplets of sweat dripping down the side of his face. "Like we discussed last night, we're going to be taking our own, private ferry over, while you ride the public one. Ours already has unlabeled police cars loaded up so once we get on the island, we'll load them off while you go up to the asylum. That way we can get up there to you much quicker than on foot if something happens and if everything goes to plan-"

"Which it will," Bruce cut in.

"…no one will ever know we were there. We won't go in, but we will be close by outside and you'll be feet away from Cash in there who will be constantly in contact with us," Gordon finished.

"Just remember," Bartley said quickly, "don't get too wrapped up in the conversation. Remember, you're there to set straight the fact that you want no further communication with her or anyone else apart of the Joker's life up there. Just get to the point then get out."

"Got it," I said, finally realizing how serious this meeting was. I'd been so focused on what I'd found that I didn't have time last night to go over exactly what I wanted to say to Dr. Quinzel. I guess now I had no choice but to wing it. "We better head out, then."

Gordon handed me my ticket that would allow me to get onto the public Arkham ferry before he and Bartley headed to their cars. Not surprisingly, Bruce stayed rooted in place. "Are you sure you're okay? If you want to put this off for a few-"

"I'm fine," I said reassuringly. "I just overslept, Bruce." I added a small smile to my statement to hopefully lighten the mood. It seemed to do the trick for now.

"Alright, but remember what they said – just go in there and say your peace, then come right back out. We'll meet back at my place when you're done," he said, running a hand through his styled hair.

I nodded before heading back over to my car. Through my window, I could see the edge of my diary sticking out of my purse. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door, leaned across the driver's seat, and pulled it out. My hand ran over the cover once before I turned around. "Gordon!" I called.

His head whipped around before he stepped out of the car and made his way over. I met him halfway before stretching my arm out and handing him the book.

"I found what we were looking for," I muttered.

His eyes went wide as his mouth opened in shock. "Really? What is it? What did you find?" His eyes gazed down at the cover almost hungrily, ready to devour all of the things that had been evading him for the past two years.

"I bent the page corner so you could find it. I don't really want to look at it again," I said, taking one last glance at the book before looking steadily into his eyes. "It'll answer all of your questions," I said, unable to stop my voice from cracking at the end. With that, I got back into my car and drove to the port.

I parked in the lot, not seeing the guys anywhere. Being invisible was something all of them were good at, so I had no doubt they would remain unseen as long as they wanted to. I slid my sunglasses down over my eyes before heading over to the ticket booth. There was a large sign displaying the departing times: 7am, 9am, 11am, and 2pm. The times that the ferry left Arkham were listed on another sign beside it: 8am, 10am, noon, 3pm. Apparently, one could schedule a special time with one of the other ferries depending on their situation. I handed my ticket to an elderly gentleman through a small hole located on the bottom of a bulletproof glass window.

He ripped the ticket in half, keeping one side for himself and handing me the other. "You made it just in time, lass," he said, revealing an Irish accent. "Five minutes until the 9am departs."

"A part of me wishes I would have missed it," I revealed.

He let out a chuckle. "I know how ya feel. You'd be surprised how many people go up there in day. Creeps me out, that place. I prefer staying right here," he said with a curt nod.

"Even this is too close for comfort," I said with a small smile.

"Yeah, well David here is going to run you through the metal detector. Just take anything out of your pockets that could trigger it or any jewelry," he said kindly.

This so called David on the other hand didn't look so kind. He was a tall, large man with a long red beard and a gun on his hip. His eyes were beady looking and his mouth, which was barely visible anyway, was set in a straight line. It looked like he hadn't smiled in years.

I opened up the wristlet I'd grabbed instead of my purse, opting to lug around something smaller during my little trip. Taking out my phone and car keys, I set those in the basket before walking underneath the arch. There were no loud beeping sounds, so I figured I was in the clear. I picked up my belongings and put them back inside. "Thanks," I muttered before turning away.

"Be careful up there," a grumbling voice responded from behind me. I turned my head back to see David staring at me ominously; a look that sent a shiver down my spine.

I stepped onto the ferry, his words ringing in my mind. There were ten people scattered about on the transit, which was smaller than most ferries I'd been on. I opted to sit towards the back, hoping no one would pay attention to me there as I fretted about the coming events. It didn't take long for a voice to come over the sound system, stating that we were now headed toward Arkham Asylum. I looked out my window as machinery rumbled and started towards the island. It was a ten minute ride that seemed to last an eternity. When the two minute warning came on I looked down the aisle and out the front window for the first time. There on the nearing horizon stood the expansive building of doom. I could have been over exaggerating, only to look at the place was an entirely different experience than anything I had ever felt before. Knowing what type of people lived inside didn't frighten me as much as the sheer size and domineering nature of the place. It stood four stories high with a large steeple right in the middle, jutting out to create a looming over affect on all who entered the doors below. The sheer length of the building shouldn't have been surprising due to the vast number of people and functions this place held, but I was left in awe nonetheless. The sudden lurch of the ferry stopping jutted me forward a bit.

"Welcome to Arkham Asylum. Please exit through the front of the ferry in a calm fashion. The officer waiting outside will lead you up to the gates where another officer will walk you to the entrance. From there, you will be taken to your location inside of the hospital. Remember, this ferry departs from here at 8am, 10am, noon, and 3pm. You must leave the grounds at one of those times unless other arrangements have been made with Dr. Jeremiah Arkham. Thank you." The system squeaked once before turning off altogether. I rose from my seat along with my companions and walked outside to meet the officer.

I was too preoccupied with staring at the building ahead of us to notice my feet moving beneath me, following the rest of the group to the gates. All my life I'd heard about this place, but I never dreamed I'd one day be on the grounds, especially for this reason.

"This is corrections officer Cash. He will be taking you up the hospital itself where you will then be escorted to your destination inside," the officer stated, giving his fellow officer a nod before heading back down the hill.

When his name was stated, I immediately took my eyes off of the building and looked at him, knowing this was the person I was supposed to stay with the remainder of my stay. He glanced over at me before turning around and leading us up to the building. "Most of you are familiar faces, but for those of you who have never visited Arkham before, we have some rules," he said as we past under a huge, arching sign that read 'Arkham Asylum'. "This place holds some of the most dangerous criminals not only in Gotham, but in the world. You must never wander off by yourself while inside. Always make sure the doctor or officer you are speaking with knows your full intentions and whereabouts at all times. It's best to always stay with them during your visit. When it's time to leave, you will be escorted back downstairs by either him or her and taken back to the ferry by two other officers. If you have any questions or concerns, you can ask them now or direct them to the receptionist right inside." As he finished, he turned around to face us all, now standing right outside of the closed double doors.

The silence that followed indicated no one had any questions, at least for now, and with that he turned around and opened the doors.

Just as I expected, the lobby was rather extravagant. The polished wood floors were the first thing I noticed along with the lifelike paintings of people I didn't know hanging over the receptionist's desk. I felt like I was in a hotel lobby rather than that of an asylum. I took my sunglasses off and placed them in my wristlet. A couple people walked over to the desk, while the rest went towards some officers scattered about the lobby and asked them to take them to their locations. I figured those were the ones who had been here a time or two. Family members or old friends visiting patients. Maybe people just going to visit a doctor they knew who worked here. Either way, I couldn't imagine just coming here out of the blue on my own accord to pop in and say hello to an employee.

I felt someone come up behind me and turned to see Cash standing there. He was a tall man, probably 6'4", with a bald head and some crinkles around his eyes. Now this was a man who appeared to let out a good laugh a time or two a day. He smiled down at me warmly, though that hard exterior that said he could take someone down in less than a second still remained. It was just a part of the package I supposed. I admired him instantly for being able to do a job like this and still be able to smile like that. I'm not sure I would be able to do the same.

"Jessica Wayne, right?" he asked quietly so as not to be overheard by anyone.

I nodded and shook his hand. "Thank you for meeting me here. I really appreciate it," I said with a smile, though the butterflies in my stomach were still going rampant.

"It's no problem at all. Anytime Commissioner Gordon asks a favor of me, I'm going to do it. I owe that man my life," he revealed affectionately.

"We have that in common," I said. He nodded and guided me over to one of the elevators on the other side of the lobby.

"Now, Dr. Quinzel has her office hours now, so she'll be in there for sure. Based on what Gordon said, she isn't expecting you, is she?"

I shook my head. "No, should I have called and told her I was coming in?"

"No, I think the element of surprise will help you here," he said with a smile as we stepped onto the elevator. He pressed the number one button and a few seconds later the doors closed. "This way, she didn't have time to come up with some long spiel to try and convince you of anything."

"That's very true. I don't plan on staying in there too long. I just want to get my point across and leave," I said, wanting to pep myself up more than anything.

"Just keep telling yourself that," he said seriously. "These doctors here are smart and cunning. She's going to do everything in her power to convince you to meet with the Joker. Just remember everything Gordon told you, okay?"

I nodded as the doors opened and we stepped out into a long hallway. "There are doctor's offices on this floor along with some therapy rooms. We like to keep them as close to the lobby as possible in case anything happens," he revealed as we turned to the right and began walking down the long corridor. We made a left once and walked another minute before slowing to a stop. "This is her office," he whispered. The door was cracked open and I could hear the sound of rapid typing on the other side.

"I won't be too long," I confirmed, my heart beating quickly. I kept telling myself I shouldn't be so nervous, but the words just weren't sticking.

"Take as long as you need. I'll be here the whole time," he said.

I nodded and, after taking a deep breath, knocked on the door.

"Come in," a female voice called.

I pushed open the door softly and stepped inside. The woman sitting in front of me wasn't exactly what I expected. She had a pretty face that adorned dark rimmed glasses and her hair was up in a messy bun.

"Dr. Quinzel?" I asked, hesitating for a moment before coming in the room completely.

"Yes, what can I…?" she began to ask, but as soon as she lifted her head and made eye contact with me, she trailed off. Her eyes went wide and she took her glasses off slowly, absent mindedly sitting them down on a random location on her desk. "You're Jessica, aren't you?" she asked breathlessly.

I nodded, wondering why she was looking at me like that. The shocked recognition was still in place and made me feel slightly uneasy. "Yeah, that's me. Can I talk to you for a few minutes?" I asked.

She stared at me for a couple of seconds as if she was taking in every feature. I shifted my weight from one foot to another and this simple gesture seemed to stir her back to awareness.

"Of course, come on in," she said hurriedly as she shuffled paper around on her desk and pressed the sleep button on her computer. "You can go ahead and close the door. There are some nosy people on this floor," she said with a smile.

I closed it behind me before awkwardly taking up occupancy in a chair on the other side of her desk. Glancing down at the stack of papers she had just reassembled seconds before, I was able to catch some key words: liar, manipulative, misunderstood. I didn't know what their context was in the documents, but I couldn't suppress Gordon's words of doubt about this woman sitting before me.

"So, have you decided to sit in on a session?" she asked calmly, but I could tell she was holding back mounds of excitement. There was a gleam in her eyes that was just too much to suppress.

"No, actually, I came here to say that I'm not at all interested in being a part of the session," I said, resting my hands in my lap. No matter how disturbed this woman supposedly was, I had to assert my strength in this situation. Quite frankly, I had to remain aware that I had the upper hand here.

Her face fell, disappointment written all over it. "Oh…but it would be such a great opportunity. Leaps and bounds would be made in both of your developments, I swear-"

"Look, I appreciate you offering this to me, but I just don't think it would be a good thing at all," I said gently. The last thing I wanted to do was set her off right now.

She placed her head in her hands for a good thirty seconds, commencing an uncomfortable silence to come in between us. Looking up slowly, her once disappointed face was now masked with determination.

"I've been working with the Joker for the past two years and I'd like to think I've made some commendable progress with him. The only thing that truly stands in his way of recovering is you, Jessica. There's no other way to put it," she said, sitting up straight now.

I was speechless. How did I get myself in this situation again? My mind was racing as I tried to discern truth from fiction. What if she was right about this? What if I really was the only thing standing in the way of him making a change in himself?

Sighing loudly, I looked around at the walls to give myself time to think without looking solely at her. There were three diplomas lined along the left wall, proving she did have quite a few credentials in this arena. Even if she was lying about giving the Joker closure, would it really be such a bad thing for me to see face him one last time? I'd finally found the answers we'd all been searching for for so many years now. Maybe it would be good, even healthy, for me to see him one last time with these newly found details in mind. Maybe I could even confront him with them…

I looked out the window that was just behind Dr. Quinzel's head. All I could see was a vast amount of water with Gotham standing tall in the not so far distance. _Just maybe…_

My eyes fell just a few inches to once again look her in the eyes, which still had some hope left in them. "If I were to go in there and speak with him, he would be handcuffed down, right? There would be no chance of him escaping?" I asked firmly.

She let out a soft chuckle, which took me aback slightly. "Of course he would be. Besides, Jessica, like I said, he has made tremendous progress. I don't think he would get out of his seat even if he wasn't chained down."

The tone of her voice made me realize just how much she believed that statement. Though there was the smallest chance he really had made these changes she was talking about, I had a hard time believing he wouldn't make a move if I stepped into the room. I had been through too much with this monster to think otherwise.

I was completely conflicted as I glanced behind me at the door I knew Cash was standing at. If he could hear this conversation, I was sure he had already told the others who would be on their way here pronto. Looking back out at the water, however, revealed complete stillness. No signs of danger or sounds of cars racing towards the building, the sky a beautiful shade of blue with not a cloud in the sky.

"Okay, I'll meet with him. But I don't want some long drawn out discussion. I just want to say a few words then leave," I said, wanting to set the standards now before going in there. Of course, I had set the standards before I stepped foot in this office and look where those got me.

Dr. Quinzel literally jumped out of her seat, absolutely beaming. "This is just so wonderful. You're not going to regret this, I swear," she said before grabbing some papers off of her desk quickly and piling them in the crevice of her arm. "You have no idea how much this means to me. I've really wanted to meet you for so long to just set things straight."

"Set things straight?" I asked, now standing up as well.

"Oh, yes. See, I could just tell that it was all one big misunderstanding," she revealed as she came around her desk to stand directly in front of me.

My mind was reeling at her words, not understanding in the slightest what she meant by that statement. I wanted to argue, but that would just open up a whole new can of worms that would set me back probably another hour and I really didn't want to be in this place any longer than I had to be. Thus, I just nodded as we headed out of her office door. As she closed the door and locked it, I looked up at Cash guiltily. His expression went from that of confusion to disbelief to anger.

"No," he said, causing Dr. Quinzel to jump violently. The glasses that she had quickly thrown on before leaving had fallen down onto the tip of her nose and she hastily pushed them back into place as she stared up at the corrections officer with wide eyes.

"Look, it's just going to take a few minutes-" I tried to reason.

"Absolutely not. Do you know what kind of trouble I could get in here? Your godfather would kill me on site for just letting you go onto the fourth floor," said Cash.

"He's actually on the third right now," Dr. Quinzel butt in hesitantly. "I was planning on having a one-on-one session with him today anyway."

"Of course you were," Cash replied with the roll of his eyes. "We're leaving. Now."

"Wait, you wouldn't even have to tell them I did this," I said, not completely sure why I was fighting with him over a plan I wasn't even sure I wanted to one hundred percent go through with as it was.

"What part of me being murdered do you not understand?" he asked as he went to talk into his earpiece.

"Wait!" I yelled, causing him to stop mid-action. "Just let me do this one thing, okay. I've already been assured that he will be chained down the whole time. Plus, you can come in, too. I don't care who hears what I have to say to him."

"He's not normally chained down during your sessions, though, is he, Dr. Quinzel?" Cash asked suspiciously. I looked over to see her response.

She looked from me to him a couple of times, appearing to be at a loss for words. "Well, no…"

"Then how did you know to chain him up today of all days?" he asked, taking a step closer to her.

My eyebrows furrowed as I let Cash's insinuation sink in. "Did you plan on me coming in today?" I asked.

"No!" she said quickly. "I just…I knew it was a possibility that you would show up, so I decided to do it just in case. For your own safety."

"But you just told me in there that you didn't think he would get up if I walked in anyhow," I said, turning completely to face her.

"It's my job to be cautious, though," she muttered, looking down at the ground. A small part of me felt sorry for her as her arms slacked, rumpling the papers against her top. It appeared she thought the deal was off.

"It doesn't matter," I said with a sigh. "Let's just go get this over with."

"I still don't think this is a good idea. You're going to have to tell Gordon you spoke with him. He needs to know this stuff," Cash reasoned as we all began walking towards the elevator.

"Why would I need to tell him? My case has been on hiatus for the past two years and now that the motive's been found, it's completely closed," I said.

"Motive? What motive?" Dr. Quinzel asked curiously.

"Nothing," I said. Something in my gut told me it wouldn't be a good idea to let her in on what I'd read in my diary last night. Again, it would just open yet another can of worms.

We all stepped onto the elevator and went up to the third floor. Just like the last time I'd been on here, the butterflies in my stomach were flying everywhere. Only this time, they felt like elephants. The doors opened with a soft ding and we stepped out into a big lobby-like room. Five corridors went off in different directions, making me feel like I was in some type of nightmare where choosing the right hallway to go down meant life or death. We followed Dr. Quinzel down the second corridor on the left, passing steel door after steel door, all complete with a small glass window built to allow someone to peek inside. After walking straight down this hallway for a whole two minutes, Dr. Quinzel finally slowed to a stop beside of one of the doors.

She turned to me, having a genuine look of concern that took me by surprise. "Are you ready?" she asked quietly.

I nodded, sure that if I tried to speak, my heart would jump out. The truth was, I hadn't been this afraid in a long time.

Cash put his hand on my shoulder and turned me to face him. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? You don't know what could happen."

"I'm sure," I said. Even though I was terrified, I knew I was telling the truth. I had to face him just one last time.

He took a deep breath before nodding. "Okay, but I'm going in with you. If he makes one wrong move, I'll kill him."

I turned around to face Dr. Quinzel who was staring at Cash fearfully. "You know him better than anyone at this point and you said so yourself he wouldn't make a wrong move," I assured her, not sure once again why I was trying to make her feel better.

Her eyes landed on me and all I could see was worry. She nodded slowly, "Yeah, I did." She smiled slightly, quickening her nod before pulling a set of keys out of her pocket. "Better now than ever," she whispered, but I heard her words clearly.

She put the key in the lock and turned it. I was sure both of them could hear my heart pounding in my chest. Pushing the door open, she stepped inside, beckoning me to come forward with her hand. Taking a deep breath, I did just that.

A white table was sitting in the middle of the medium sized room with two chairs on either side of it, one of which was currently occupied by someone I had seen in my nightmare just two nights ago. I vaguely heard myself gulp as I took in his appearance. I was shocked to see he looked basically the same. His hair still had that familiar green tinge, his face coated with deathly white makeup and ruby red lips. Black surrounded those eyes that I had seen turn the exact same color on multiple occasions. He was wearing a long sleeved dark blue silk shirt accompanied with a green bowtie. His arms appeared to be even more muscular underneath that shirt than the last time I had seen him, his figure much bulkier and more toned. They must have had some sort of gym here to help patients blow off some steam. From what I knew about the Joker, he had a lot of steam to blow off.

His eyes were shut, his head tilted down towards his hands that were resting in his lap and I nearly jumped out of my skin when he began to speak. "So, Doc, what shall we discuss today?" he asked, smacking his lips.

"Actually, we're going to have someone else join in with us today," she said as she stepped to the side so Cash could walk in and stand beside me.

"Oooh, will Jeremiah be joining us? How I do love discussing his family life. Well, he's always a bit reluctant, but I think that's just because he's having some trouble in the bedroom with the misses. But don't tell him I told you that," he said, letting out that shrill laugh that sent chills all over my body. I could feel the goosebumps rising on my arms.

Dr. Quinzel didn't respond, prompting the Joker to open his eyes and look up. It didn't take long for him to assess the situation in front of him. It never did. That was one of the things that made him so dangerous.

Before I even had time to blink, his eyes had captured mine. Rather than appearing menacing or angry, he looked shocked. His eyes had widened slightly, his hands breaking apart on his lap. A piece of wavy hair was dangling in front of his face, but he didn't seem to notice. He licked his lips quickly and opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again. This was the first time I had ever seen him speechless. Hopefully it would be the last.

"Jessica decided to join us-"

He held up his hand quickly to silence Dr. Quinzel, to which she obliged quickly. The chains clanged loudly at his fast motion, but the sound died away soon enough, enveloping the room in silence. His eyes never left mine as he regained control of himself once again. I could see his brain working rapidly just behind his eyes, the light that appeared whenever he was deep in concentration burning brighter than ever.

"Jessica," he said once before pronouncing every syllable of my name dangerously slow. The hint of a smile appeared on his lips as he scooted in his chair to sit up straighter. "Did you miss me as much as I missed you?" he asked sarcastically. There was something, however, in the way he said it that sounded too serious for comfort.

"Listen, she's only here to say her peace and leave," Cash said beside me, the acoustics of his deep voice reverberating around the room.

The Joker took his eyes off of me for the first time, looking astounded for a second that this other man was in the room. His eyes flashed from him to me before landing back on him, a threatening glare now taking over his features. Lip curling up in disgust, he looked Cash up and down slowly. "Did the Commissioner send you in here with her? Good ol' Gordon. How is he doing anyway? Not _dead_ again I'm assuming," he said, tilting his head to the side as he continued to stare Cash down.

"Unfortunately for you, no," Cash responded, taking a step closer to him.

"Well, you know, I'm a man who doesn't like to air his dirty laundry for all to see," the Joker said, lightening up greatly. His quick mood changes appeared to still be in effect. "So, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm gonna need to have you," he said pointing and Cash, "and you," he pointed at Dr. Quinzel, "leave." He made his face to look like he was genuinely sorry, giving them both a sad smile and furrowing his eyebrows in mock concern.

"That's not how this works," Cash said.

The Joker, whose eyes had rested on me again, looked at Cash quickly. "And why is that?"

"Because you don't call the shots," Cash said, mimicking the face the Joker had just made as he mocked his own concern.

The Joker smacked his lips, obviously growing more and more agitated by this officer. "See, Howdy Doody, that's not how things work _actually_ here," he said, leaning his arms on the table in front of him, using his hands to speak. "You don't get to 'call the shots' in here," he said, putting air quotation marks around his repetitive words. "I'm a very reasonable guy and right now, all I ask is to be alone with Jess." He moved just his eyes to glance up at me again before directing his attention back to my only ally.

Cash shook his head and leaned up against the wall. Crossing his arms, he took a stance that clearly stated he wasn't going to move.

"You're a hard headed one, aren't you?" the Joker asked, wagging his finger at him. He grunted as he turned to Dr. Quinzel, deciding to move his attack on her. "What do you say, Doc? Can I spend some time alone with my old friend here? There's no harm in that, right? I've been itching to have a little play date with her for so long now." He blinked up innocently at her as if he was a five-year-old trying to get what he wanted in the grocery store. I prayed she would see through his act.

"Well…if it's okay with, Jessica," she said, causing me to whip my head over to look at her.

"What?" I asked in disbelief, in complete awe that she would cave so easily.

"She speaks," the Joker said quietly and I could feel his dark eyes on me.

"I mean, I think he deserves a chance to talk with you about everything that's happened," she said, turning her body to face me fully.

"_He_ deserves a chance to speak with _me_?" I asked, my face turning pink out of anger. "I set the rules before I came in here and I expected them to be followed."

"She has quite the temper, Doc. When she gets feisty, she's absolutely lethal," the Joker spoke up. I looked over at him to see him still wearing that innocent expression on his face, his eyes wide and childlike as he watched us argue.

"That's it, I'm done. Let's just leave it at this," I turned back to Dr. Quinzel, "don't ever even think about trying to contact me again. If you do, I'll have you fired so fast your head will spin," I said before turning to leave.

"Jessica," the Joker growled dangerously, stopping me in my tracks. The tone of his voice was so familiar that I had no choice but to freeze in place, old memories of defiance and following punishments coming to the forefront of my mind.

"Someone mailed my diary to Bruce," I said before I had time to think about what I was saying. The entire atmosphere in the room changed in that moment, a heaviness coming and pushing down on my shoulders, but I refused to stand down.

"What?" the Joker growled, putting extra emphasis on the 't'. I took a deep breath and looked over my shoulder at him. His eyes were on fire, his stance animalistic and threatening even though he was confined to that chair.

"We are nothing alike," I said shakily, unexpected tears coming to my eyes and clouding my vision.

Knowing I finally had enough and realizing what a mistake this had been, I turned around and walked out the door, Cash following behind me instantly.

"Come on," he said, placing a reassuring hand on the small of my back. As we walked down the hallway, sounds of absolute pandemonium erupted from the room we were just in.

"Jessica! _JESSICA_!" the Joker screamed venomously as the sound of a table coming into contact with a wall shock the whole corridor. Chains clanging loudly together as they were yanked violently were overrun by the inhuman sounds erupting from the Joker. Growls and screams felt like physical hits to me as I found myself in parts of memories I'd been avoiding for so long now. Cash grabbed me and helped to hold me up as my legs grew shaky. All of a sudden, a loud sound that could only be compared to a fire alarm went off, bright flashes further illuminating the already well lit hallway.

"What's happening?" I yelled just as Cash grabbed my arm and broke into a full blown sprint, forcing me to run alongside him.

"He broke the fucking chains! How did he break the fucking chains?" he screamed in shock as we made a sharp left down a side corridor I hadn't noticed before. He pulled a badge out of his pocket and flashed it in front of a scanner beside yet another large steel door that had the words 'Personnel Only' printed in black ink on the front. The beep it made was too quiet to hear over the consistent ringing that was now in my ears from the loud alarm still going strong overhead. Even though the ringing was unbearable, I could hear the faint sound of heavy footsteps coming up the corridor we had just gotten off of. He pushed me inside roughly and slammed the door shut. I didn't have time to catch my breath before he yanked me towards the right where we proceeded to sprint to a door that said 'Stairway' on it. He pushed the door open roughly, causing it to slam into the wall behind it. We were going too fast to have it hit either one of us, though. It took just seconds for us to make it down the three long flights of stairs and back into the lobby.

We ran out the front door which was currently being guarded by no less than ten guards armed with large guns. They were ushering frantic looking doctors and visitors outside, telling them to head down to the ferries now.

As soon as we stepped outside, Bruce and Gordon swarmed the two of us. "What happened?" Gordon asked.

"What makes you think it had anything to do with us?" I asked shakily. I would be the one to try and make a joke out of this situation. It was a coping mechanism.

Bruce grabbed my hand and, once again, I found myself sprinting towards the ferry they must have taken over. He lifted me up onto the platform and I ran onto the deck, sitting down on the booth that lined the edge all the way around. My breaths were coming out rapidly, a quiet wheezing sound emitting from my throat. I was definitely out of shape.

"What happened, Jessica?" Bruce asked sternly, leaning down in front of me.

"I don't…want to talk…about it," I answered in between breaths, keeping my eyes steady on the floor.

"You have to tell me what happened," he said angrily, causing me to look at him.

"What have I done?" I asked, breaking down for the second time in twenty-four hours. The tears poured down my face freely as I openly sobbed. Bruce's arms wrapped around me as the rumbling of the ferry taking off shook us both. _What have I done?_


	6. Plans and Propositions

**A/N: Well everyone, here's the long awaited next chapter! If you read my author profile, you'd know that someone I hold very dear to me was hospitalized for a very serious disease and was there for the past month. Now that he's home and feeling much better, though, I finally had time to finish writing this chapter. I want to send a special shout out to LeahBee for being so supportive during this very stressful time. Also, thank you to all of you readers who stuck through this past month. It was definitely the most life altering thing I've ever experienced before. But, without further ado, here's the next chapter!**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill!**

* * *

"What was she thinking going in there like that? I thought we all made ourselves very clear beforehand. I thought she knew to stick to the plan!" I could hear Gordon's voice from the living room loud and clear, despite the closed door and long corridor that separated me from him. His rage felt like a slap in the face, every word dripping with venom and a hostility I never knew he could possess. I could see him in my mind's eye shaking with rage from here.

"I thought so, too, but she made a rash decision. You know as well as I do that she only did what she thought was best in that moment," Bruce said in my defense.

"Well it looks like her judgment is something to be questioned then, doesn't it?" Bartley asked rhetorically, causing my face to grow hot with embarrassment.

"Watch your mouth," Bruce growled, his tone getting so low I almost couldn't hear his response.

The three men had been going around in circles about a new course of action since we arrived back at Bruce's penthouse twenty minutes prior. Bruce had decided it best if I was left out of this conversation for now and sent me to my room to wait out the discussion. I hadn't been "sent to my room" in ages and normally that phrase would have sent me reeling; however, since my legs were still shaking and I was just now learning how to breathe normally again, I decided it was in fact for the best to wait this one out.

Sitting on this bed felt so foreign to me, though. To be honest, everything felt foreign to me. I was in a state of complete shock and everything was just…surreal. Resting my head in my hands, a blurry depiction of the shouts and gunshots from thirty minutes ago echoed in my mind. I was torn between wanting to know what was happening there now and wanting to completely erase the entire experience from my memory. I stared at the television screen in front of me, contemplating whether or not I should turn it on. There simply was no erasing this and I would have to face the consequences of my actions some time. As I went to grab the remote, however, my mind was made up for me when my door was thrown open to reveal my frazzled looking cousin.

"So, the plan is you're going to camp out at the police station for awhile until we figure everything out," Bruce said as he began pacing my room. He walked over to the window and, after roughly pulling the blinds apart, peered outside in the direction of Arkham.

"What's going on there now?" I asked quietly, weary of the answer.

"We're going to drive you to your apartment so you can pick up some clothes and anything you'll need. You'll probably be there for at least a week, so pack wisely," he continued hurriedly. The normal composure he had was fading fast, which may have been more disturbing than anything I'd experienced thus far.

"What's happening, Bruce?" I asked more forcibly this time. My throat was dry from the sobs that had racked my body earlier, making my voice crack as my temper rose.

His fingers let go of the blinds slowly, but he continued to face the window. My heartbeat quickened with every passing second of silence.

"Why are you ignoring me?" I asked, rising to my feet before I realized what I was doing.

"Because he's not willing to accept what's happening," Gordon said matter-of-factly from the doorway behind me.

I continued to stare at Bruce's back, unable to face Gordon yet after everything I'd heard. "And what exactly _is_ happening?" I asked once again.

Bruce turned around quickly, strutting over to me and grasping my arm in a soft grip. "Let's go get your things, Jess."

"Wait," I protested, ripping my arm away from him, "what is going on?" Bruce stared down at me with a blank expression, his eyes not appearing to comprehend anything that was going on around him, much less what I was saying. Knowing I wasn't going to get a response from him, I took a deep breath and turned to face the other man in the room. "Gordon, what's happening?"

Gordon stepped fully into the room, wiping a bead of sweat off of his forehead. "The Joker has escaped Arkham, along with Dr. Quinzel and some other criminals." I sat back down on the bed, knowing my already unsteady legs wouldn't be able to support me now. "We're not sure how many or which criminals are potentially involved with the Joker, but we have a feeling he's been planning something like this for awhile now," he revealed steadily. It always amazed me how strong he was able to be in the most stressful of times.

"Gordon," Bartley said, walking quickly into the room, "we have to get back to the station now. Everyone's going crazy down there. They've sent out the squads, but now we need the patrol guidelines." After giving the news, he glanced from Gordon to me to Bruce, taking in the scene before him.

"Got it," Gordon said, continuing to stare at me. My eyes fell to the carpet at my feet as a lump steadily rose in my throat. A cold sweat had broken out all over my body and my head was beginning to pound fiercely. Bruce took a heavy seat next to me on the bed and rested his head in his hands. "We are going to keep you under close watch at the jail," he stated.

"And you honestly think that's going to help?" I asked exasperatingly.

"That's not for you to decide," Bartley spoke up, walking further into the room. "You decided to go out on your own today, call your own shots, and look where that got us." His northern accent was becoming even more prominent the angrier he got, but I didn't have the heart to look up at him. I was too ashamed. He was right after all.

"That's enough of that, son," Gordon said. I didn't realize he had moved until he was kneeling in front of me on the floor. "I know it feels like history's just repeating itself and that everything's falling apart, but you can't think like that. You have to do your best to stay optimistic."

"Optimistic," I repeated dully, only really hearing every other word he was saying. The rush of blood pounding in my ears was too overpowering to handle much longer. I vaguely heard Bartley huff from somewhere by the door before walking out altogether.

"Let's just get things going," Bruce said as he stood up, appearing to have shaken off his worries for the time being.

"Yeah," I said, slowly rising to my feet. Maybe feeling like I was somewhat in control of the situation would make me feel better. There was a part of me, though, that said I should know better than that. I was no longer in control of anything. I was either going to be at the mercy of the Gotham Police or the Joker. There was no in between or normalcy. Not for a long time.

"Bruce, I'm gonna need you to come with me to the station. Bartley will take Jessica to get her things," Gordon explained.

"Absolutely not. I'm taking her to get her things," Bruce said, his personality coming back full force in a nanosecond. The light that normally lit up his eyes was slowly coming to life once again.

"Look, I know you want to and I know why, but you're in danger now, too, Bruce. I already have three squad cars outside of her building and we need to move fast. There's no room for error anymore," said Gordon, his face going pink from the sense of urgency I'm sure he was feeling.

"It's okay, Bruce. Bartley's going to be with me," I spoke up, my voice cracking in the middle of the sentence embarrassingly.

"You know I can take care of both myself and her, Gordon. Don't you dare try and pull something like this over on me," Bruce said, taking a step closer to Gordon. The two stared at one another for a good five seconds, both of their arguments streaming through their equally great minds.

"This is not your place anymore, Bruce. You know that," Gordon said, his eyes softening as he took in his friend's every move. It didn't take much to set Bruce Wayne off and now they were teetering on the edge of a discussion that was long overdue. It was obvious the two were referring to my cousin's former alter ego. The masked vigilante, former hero turned villain of Gotham: Batman. It had been far too long since he had ventured out into the night as the caped crusader that all criminals feared. Well, all but one.

"That doesn't mean I can't make it my place," Bruce growled, his eyes now slits that were glaring rancorously at the aging Commissioner.

"We both know you don't want to do that," Gordon all but whispered, not wanting to set the young man off any more than he already had.

Urgent footsteps found their way back into the room. "Look, we have to go now. I don't think you guys fully understand what's-"

"The three of us understand more than you do, buddy, so don't pull that shit here or ever," Bruce said heatedly, turning his full attention to the unsuspecting Bartley, now facing him square on.

"You three weren't the only ones affected, you know. All of Gotham had to pay for your inadequacies as a protector of that seventeen-year-old girl," Barton said angrily.

The air in the room shifted to something fierce when that last syllable left his lips. A black cloud was pushing down on all of us as the words sunk in deeply to all of our minds. More than that, however, they were stabbed into Bruce's heart. I chanced a glance at his face, but had to quickly look away when I saw the sheer pain and anger written all over his features. Those words had stung. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, wishing I had the courage to say something, anything, to make that cloud go away. My throat seemed to have closed up, though, tightening to the point of pain. If anyone on this Earth could diffuse a situation it was Gordon, but he, too, seemed shocked into silence.

Bruce cleared those six steps between him and Bartley in less than a second. Now that the two men were toe to toe, the officer in question seemed to slowly realize he had made a terrible mistake. His expression shifted from one of anger to one of shock, his mouth opening slowly as he began to shake his head. "I-I don't…" he began, but stopped himself in what I assumed was an attempt to not dig himself into an even deeper hole. I wasn't entirely sure if that was possible though.

"You don't what?" Bruce questioned, his voice eerily calm. He wanted him to say the wrong thing. The look on his face seemed to actually be begging him to make just one more wrong move.

"I didn't mean that, Bruce," he said softly, raising his hands in the air in surrender.

"Yes, you did," he growled in response. He continued to stare him down for a few moments longer, his shoulders squared in such an animalistic way that it sent a shiver down my spine. His posture in that moment reminded me of being cornered by a man in a purple trench coat and the pure terror I'd experienced when being on the receiving end of such a powerful and dominant individual's rage. "Now, you better be more willing than ever to lay your life on the line for her," he said, pointing back at me. "If you don't, you'll experience more agony and pain than you could have ever concocted in your worst nightmare."

"Of course, sir," Bartley muttered with a curt nod of his head.

Bruce assessed him for a few moments longer before turning to me, his eyes still glazed over with that hardened anger that would probably take some time to subside. "You don't leave his sight for one second, do you understand me? That means no doing your own thing. Ever," he demanded.

I nodded weakly, knowing he was right. I no longer even trusted myself to be able to discern between right and wrong at this point. My mind was too easily skewed right along with my perceptions of reality and fantasy. I wanted so badly for everything to be okay that I'd just warped everything back into sheer pandemonium.

"Good," he said. "Let's head on over to the station, Gordon."

The Commissioner looked at both Bartley and I as Bruce sauntered out of the room. "You two are going to be fine and don't worry about him. We're all just stressed right now."

_Because of me_, I couldn't help but say in my mind. Realizing there was nothing more that could be said, he followed in Bruce's footsteps, leaving Bartley and I alone.

"I really didn't mean that," he said feebly, his eyes still wide in shock and his face pale.

"Let's just go get my stuff," I said, not wanting to think about it anymore.

The sick feeling in my gut was even worse than it was before, now feeling more like some sort of unwanted growth in the pit of my stomach. I continued to take deep breaths as we made our way down the elevator and into the lobby. What we found there didn't help my anxiety at all. Bright flashes of light immediately attacked my eyes when the elevator doors slid open. The sound of voices echoing through the expansive room was deafening.

"Miss Wayne, why did you go to Arkham Asylum today?"

"Officer Bartley, what steps are being taken right now to ensure the safety of Gotham now that the Joker is on the loose again?"

"Jessica, are you going to be staying in Gotham or make a run for it?"

A large security guard now blocked my view of the twenty or so reporters that were descending upon us. "We have to go to the back exit. Commissioner Gordon sent the cars around there to meet you guys. His phone wasn't working when he tried to call up and let you all know. Then when I tried to call the penthouse there was no answer. All of the cell phone lines around the city are going haywire. Everyone is trying to make phone calls and text, but they're just clogging up everything even more. It's crazy out there," he explained hurriedly as he rushed us out of the elevator and down a small hallway that had an exit door at the end of it.

"Hopefully all of the station's radios are working," Bartley commented weakly as he placed his arm in front of me when we got to the door. He took his gun out of the holster on his hip and eased the door open with his shoulder, pointing the gun outside before surveying the area around him. "All clear, let's go."

I followed behind him outside to the alley that sat behind the building. There were four cop cars situated along the curb, their lights flashing. Seven police officers were all standing in a circle situated in front of the first car seeming to be in deep discussion. When they spotted us coming towards them, their conversation came to a halt. It didn't take a genius to guess what they had been talking about.

"Alright everyone, we're all going to go to the apartment complex first, then straight to the station. No pit stops allowed, understood?" Bartley commanded, his voice back to an authoritative tone.

All of them nodded before walking back to their cars. One man who looked to be about twenty-five walked towards us instead. Just looking at him I could tell he had been a football player in high school, his build and body language screaming the word 'jock'. He stood at about 6'3" with broad shoulders, short blonde hair, and big blue eyes. "Crazy stuff going on, huh?" he asked, the nerves in his voice ringing loud and clear.

"Yeah," Bartley said shortly. "Jessica, this is my partner, Todd Crowe. He's new to the force."

"Hi," I said, not able to produce a smile to go with it, though.

He nodded once in greeting, staring at me intensely. I was used to people giving me looks and taking me in, but the recent circumstances just made things one hundred times more awkward.

"Go ahead and get in the back, Jessica. Try and stay as low as possible. The windows in this car aren't tinted nearly enough to hide you in the back seat," Bartley instructed as he opened the car door for me.

I nodded and slid inside, wondering just how many people had done the same thing before me, only cuffed and under probably more pleasant circumstances to be honest.

One of the cop cars behind us pulled out and got in front of the line, allowing us to be second and the remaining two to follow. Scooting down in the seat, I made sure I still had room to peer out at the bottom corner of the window. Just as the security guard had said, the streets truly were insane. People were running up and down the sidewalks, their faces contorted to express fear, worry, and for some even anger. A man was frantically punching in numbers on his cell phone as he likely tried to get through to his loved ones. A woman was clinging her purse to her chest as she ran through the crowd, trying not to knock anyone down. Another young woman was hoisting a toddler on her hip as he buried his head in her neck, tears streaming down his face.

I looked away, unable to take anymore. The sound of the sirens on top of the cars were blending in with the sounds of hocking horns and people yelling at one another.

The sound of the CB radio beeping to life gave me something to finally focus on other than the sad sight outside. "Bartley," I heard Gordon's voice say.

Taking one hand off the wheel, he picked up the device quickly and brought it up to his mouth. "Yes, Commissioner, what's going on?" he asked hurriedly.

"The plan to take Jessica to her apartment has to be cut. There are some sources that are saying the Joker knows where she lives and will likely be heading there at some point. He probably has some of his people staking it out as we speak. We can't risk taking her there, so you're just going to bring her straight to the station. The other squad cars have already been informed," Gordon explained.

"Alright, sir. 10-4," Bartley said, placing the radio back in its place.

The squad car in front of us made a sudden right, switching up the route to put us in the direction of the station. I braced myself to stop from sliding across the back seat as Bartley didn't let up on his speed. This newfound information seemed to have just made him more antsy about everything and his need to get back to his department seemed more important than ever. Question after question was racing through my mind and I wondered when would be an okay time to start asking them. More than that, I wondered if anyone would even have answers for them. As I was pondering this, Todd cleared his throat from the passenger seat I was sitting right behind.

"Bartley, how do you think the Joker knows where she lives?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to step on any toes.

The veteran police officer sighed and ran a hand through his hair, keeping his eyes focused on the road and heavy traffic ahead of him. "I guess he had some guys on the outside finding out stuff for him. Maybe even Dr. Quinzel was the one who found it. She has a certain level of clearance to gain access to bits of information on people in this city," he explained, appearing to get more ticked off with every word that came out of his mouth.

"You're not exactly listed in the phonebook are you, Jessica?" Todd asked somewhat lightheartedly.

A corner of my mouth twitched upwards. "No, Officer Crowe, I'm not."

"Then that means you were either being followed at some point or Dr. Quinzel was able to somehow gain more clearance than she was really meant to," Bartley revealed as we made a sharp left onto the street the station was located.

My heart jolted at the thought of being followed by one of the Joker's thugs. It had never really occurred to me that he would still have people working for him when he was locked up, but I'm sure it would have had to have crossed Bruce or Gordon's mind at some point. Wouldn't they have been on the lookout for someone?

Of course, they weren't able to stake outside of my apartment at all times. I didn't even want them to if I was being completely honest with myself. It would have been rather easy in the past couple of months for someone to shadow me. I wasn't exactly an unpredictable person. On an average week, I went to work at the same time, visited the same locations for meals, and went home every night within a two hour time period. I didn't go to clubs or bars, so my nights were usually spent sitting on the couch eating a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and watching the latest reality TV shows. Yes, it would have been more than easy for someone to memorize my patterns. It was then that one name popped into my mind.

"Abbie…" I said softly to myself.

"What's wrong, Jessica?" Bartley asked urgently as he pulled into the station parking lot.

"Abigail Jenkins, she's one of my good friends from work. I go over to her place quite a bit and if someone was following me, then they would know where she lives, too. If the Joker can't get to me, he might…he might…" I tried to finish my sentence, but my brain wouldn't let the words come out of my mouth. _He might go after her._

"It's okay, Jessica, we'll send a car out to watch her place and make sure she's okay," Todd spoke up, turning around to face me, genuine concern written on his face.

I nodded, strangely comforted by his voice and features. Bartley looked between the two of us before getting out of the car. Todd followed suit, tripping over his own feet slightly as he scrambled to open my door for me. "Thanks," I muttered as I pushed myself up and out. Bartley appeared on my other side and the two guided me inside in a rush. Before I could even begin to prepare myself for what I might find behind that door, sheer mayhem attacked every one of my senses.

The first thing I couldn't get past was the noise. There was a constant ringing sound as phones on what seemed like everyone's desk went off. All of the voices together created a strange humming sound that was already beginning to make my head spin. The next thing that hit me was the strong smell of coffee. I guess everyone had decided to chug as much down as they could in the hopes of being able to endure whatever events lie ahead. The next sensation was one of unexpected physical contact as I was suddenly placed in a tight hug by some unknown assailant. "Jessica, baby, I am so sorry this is happening to you," I heard a familiar voice coo in my ear. Nancy Bartley.

"Give her some air, Nance," I heard her brother demand, letting out an agitated sigh.

"Jessica," she said again, sounding even more distressed than I felt. At this point, though, I felt more sick to my stomach than anything. My head was pounding and the sudden affection I was being given didn't help. It was no big surprise that I wasn't good with emotions and being pitied wasn't something I usually took well. Nancy was different, though. I would make an exception for her.

"Thanks, Nancy. Everything's going to be okay," I said, rubbing her back reassuringly. It felt good to finally be able to comfort someone else right now.

I felt her nod against my shoulder as she let out a little sniffle. When she pulled away finally to face me a few moments later, her face was red and there were tears streaming down her face. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed her eyes. "I'm sorry. This is the last thing you need to see right now," she said as she blew her nose and tried to compose herself.

"Don't worry about it," I said as I saw Bruce approaching us out of the corner of my eye.

"Hey," he said lightly, taking in the scene before him. Like me, Bruce didn't fair too well with emotions either.

"Oh, hi, Bruce," Nancy said. "You go on ahead and do whatever you all have to do. I just wanted to let you know, Jessica, that I'm going to be staying here with you while you have to sleep here," she said.

"What? You don't have to do that, Nancy. You can't sleep here at the station, that's-"

"I didn't ask permission, Jess," she cut in sternly. "I'm staying and that's that. Right now you just go with Bruce and work everything out on your end. I'll be here when all of the logistics are taken care of," she said, rubbing my arm.

A lump began to form in my throat at her motherly gesture. I swallowed hard in an attempt to push it down, continuously telling myself not to fall apart. Not here. "Thank you, Nancy. It means a lot."

"It's no problem," she said with a small smile.

Bruce placed a hand on the small of my back. "That really means so much, Nancy. You're an amazing woman," he said with the nod of his head.

"And you're an amazing man, too, Bruce. Don't forget that," she said sincerely, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He gave her a smile before leading me in the direction of Gordon's office. When we got inside, the Commissioner was talking on his phone, one hand tethered in his hair. "Yes, I understand that, but-" He was unable to finish this statement and sat back in his chair, clearly agitated as he was apparently cut off by the person on the other side of the call. After a few seconds he finally had his turn. "It's impossible to have a press conference right now, Garcia. It's just too risky. You are more than welcome to call into GCN and explain everything if you wish. There's just too much on my plate right now to do that, though"

Bruce and I awkwardly sat down in the seats across from him. His desk was littered with all sorts of papers and I wondered how many of them pertained to this issue in particular.

"I will stay in contact with you about everything, of course. Goodbye," he said as he slammed the phone down on the receiver. "That man just doesn't understand what all this job entails," he said as he rapidly looked around on his desk. Seeming overwhelmed by the clutter, he picked up a few pieces of paper and placed them in a small stack. Realizing that this mission was no small feat, he just plopped them down in front of him and looked up at the two of us sitting there as patiently as possible.

"Where exactly will I be sleeping tonight?" I asked suddenly. My brain couldn't handle being scattered about with frightening thoughts any longer – it needed to be preoccupied with other things. It just so happened my sleeping arrangements were the first thing that came to mind.

"Well, we were thinking the best thing to do would be to place you in a solitary confinement room with a new cot. I heard Nancy Bartley will be staying with you, too, though, so make that two cots," he said as he leaned forward and jotted something down on a sheet of paper.

I nodded, completely content with this arrangement. When they said I'd be staying in the jail, I had immediate visions of being surrounded by bars with guards staring at me all night. Even though a solitary holding cell wasn't an ideal place to lay my head, it was better than the alternative. Well, the few alternatives that I was threatened with at the moment.

"What about you, Bruce?" I ask, looking over at him worriedly.

"Sleep isn't exactly on my agenda right now, but I'll be here most of the time, too," he said reassuringly.

My heart dropped at the thought of Bruce going days on end without sleep. He already had enough stress on him as it was without this mess plummeting his life even further down the drain. I merely nodded, though, not wanting to push the issue. Glancing at the clock hanging on the wall beside me, I saw that it was nearing noon. It felt like days had passed by rather than just mere hours.

The sound of the door opening caused me to whip around quickly, expecting the worst and feeling extremely jumpy. "Sir, there's been a breakout at Blackgate," the officer said hurriedly, his face extremely pale.

"What's the threat level?" Gordon asked, standing up quickly and picking up the phone on his desk.

"Low, sir. It was just two men who were broken out actually," he said glancing at me before looking back up at Gordon.

"Who were they?" he asked, slowly placing the phone back on the receiver for the time being. When the officer hesitated, Gordon reassured him, "You can say it in front of them, don't worry."

I gazed up at him, my heart pounding as two people immediately popped into my head. Something told me I was right about my prediction.

"Robert Turner and Cole Smith, Commissioner. The Joker's two former henchmen," he said, keeping his gaze steady on his superior.

"What about Angela Barton?" Gordon asked expectantly, his eyebrows creasing together.

The officer merely shook his head. "No, she's still locked up tight."

Even though she had been one of my captors, my heart felt an involuntary twinge of sadness for Angela. We had grown closer in those last few weeks of my captivity and I knew all too well what she had felt for the Joker back then. It was bordering on the same thing Dr. Quinzel seemed to feel for him now, which made me feel slightly nauseous.

"Alright, well that's just two more people the Joker has on his side now. I was wondering if he was going to try anything like that," Bruce said as he stood up.

"I'm shocked he didn't break everyone out to be honest with you. It seems his psyche may very well have changed slightly over the past two years," Gordon said as he picked his cell phone off the desk and pocketed it.

"Should we get going now?" Bruce asked, placing one hand on the back of my chair.

"Go where?" I asked, wondering how they could leave at a time like this.

"We have to go back up to Arkham and figure out some stuff. Get the logistics on who exactly escaped and why," he said, starting down at me with some sympathy in his eyes. I knew he didn't want to leave me at this point, but he really had no other choice. Answers were just as important as my protection right now, one not being very successful without the other. "It's important for us to understand more fully what we're up against here."

"We'll be back in a couple of hours," Gordon said as he made his way around the desk. "Bartley will stay in here with you. He's going to be taking phone calls and such here at my desk for now, including keeping Mayor Garcia at bay for a few hours."

"That was never exactly in my job description," Bartley said as he entered the room. There seemed to still be some tension between him and Bruce, so it didn't surprise me that the two were blatantly ignoring one another. He walked around the desk to replace where Gordon had just sat, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a manila folder in the other. "Are you sure you still want me to hold off on calling in backup from neighboring towns?"

"Yes, for now I want them to just be focused on patrolling their own neighborhoods. They have to keep their people safe, too. The Joker knows no bounds and just because he's always stayed in Gotham doesn't mean he always will," Gordon said earnestly.

I looked back up at Bruce who still had his eyes focused on me. "We'll be back in just a few hours, Jess. You'll be safe here, so don't worry," he said.

"I'm not just worried about myself, you know?" I said, thinking about all of the people currently running around on the streets of Gotham, desperately trying to get to safety.

"I know that," he said softly as he ran a hand through my hair.

Without anymore words, Gordon and Bruce headed out of the station, the young officer who had given the news closing the office door to leave Bartley and me to ourselves.

Turning around in my seat, I studied Bartley as he took a sip of his coffee and flipped through the papers in the folder that now lay splayed out on the desk. "I'm going to put off making some of these calls. I don't want to be bombarded with questions so early on when there aren't any answers yet."

I nodded, leaning forward to try and see who exactly was on this call list. It seemed like quite a lot of police departments were listed, along with some longer names that had the words "United States" in their titles. After a few minutes went by, I sat back in my seat and looked around Gordon's office more thoroughly. There were a few pictures of Gordon posing with other political figures in Gotham. I couldn't decide how I felt about not seeing Harvey Dent in any one of them. There were three separate diplomas displayed on the opposite wall along with numerous certificates and medals honoring the Commissioner. His bravery was something I could never imagine him going without in his life, so it didn't surprise me to see so many honors. With a sigh, I looked back over at Bartley who was taping his pen absentmindedly on the desk as he intently read something on the paper he was looking at.

"I feel like a sitting duck here," I said, feeling suddenly inadequate after looking at all of Gordon's accomplishments. "Why should everyone else have to be out there doing stuff when I'm the route of the problem? It's not fair for me to just be sitting here doing nothing," I said, pushing back my chair and standing up. I began pacing the floor, my heartbeat steadily increasing as my temper rose.

Bartley remained silent, though I could feel his eyes studying me intently. I had been burning a hole in the carpet for a good minute before he finally opened his mouth. "This is going to sound crazy…" he whispered, causing me to stop in my tracks and turn to him. I inclined my head slightly to let him know I was listening. "I've been thinking about this since we were leaving Arkham this morning. Hell, who am I kidding? I've actually been thinking about this since the case broke nearly three years ago. Only then I wasn't nearly high up enough to even think about mentioning it to anyone."

"Mention what?" I asked, intrigued by both his words and the look of intensity on his face.

He stared at me for a few seconds before standing up and walking over to me. "You have to promise to just hear me out, okay? If you don't like the idea, we can just pretend it was never said and wipe our hands clean of it," he said, his hands going in every direction wildly as he spoke.

"I promise," I vowed, taking a step closer to him.

"Well, what if we turned the tables on the Joker? What if we sent you out willingly for him to take this time? Only now, you'd be traceable. And he'd have no idea," he said, his voice lowering with every word. The look in his eyes was one of pure determination and I could see the wheels turning in his mind.

"Go on," I said, growing more interested in his proposition by the second.

"When you were with the Joker, you had an inside look into the crime world of Gotham. You had access to unlimited contacts and hideouts. You just didn't fully realize it at the time, because you were so scared. Shoot, you were fighting for your life. But this time, your mind would be in an entirely different place. You would be ready. Not to fight or get away, but to stay there. To gain all of the information you could about every crime lord and drug dealer, all of the thugs and thieves. You could go where no District Attorney, Commissioner, Mayor or police officer ever really could. You could go on the inside," he said.

I could feel his grip on both of my arms, though only vaguely. My mind was working just as quickly as his was now. He was right, after all. He was absolutely right! Thinking back on my experience with the Joker, I was around people at various times who fit the descriptions Bartley just listed off. I had heard conversations and names that were long forgotten now, but could have made huge differences back then. If I were to go back into that world now, though, I would be able to better absorb everything. After all, I wouldn't be trying to get away: I would be trying everything to stay in, to go further than I had gone before.

"Bruce would never go for this, though. Neither would Gordon," I said disappointedly, shaking my head as the adrenaline pumping through my veins began to wear off at this realization.

"True, but…but," Bartley said, letting go of my arms and pacing around himself. "If we staged the situation tonight while they're gone, I could tell them all about it once you were already with the Joker. I would show them everything and hope they'd see what we're seeing right now. This is an opportunity we have to take."

"The Joker isn't going to stop trying to find me, ever. Why not use that to our advantage? They would have to understand that," I said, though I knew convincing those two would be tough. Maybe it would be best for Bartley to break the news once I was already there.

"Exactly! This is something I've been thinking about for ages," he said excitedly, happy to finally be able to share this with someone. "We have devices here at the station that we could place on you that would allow us to know where you are at every second of every day. You can leave notes behind to let us know the information you've picked up over a certain period of days. All you would have to do is press a button on the device to let us know you'd left something at that location. Just a crumpled up piece of paper placed in the corner would work perfectly."

This idea was absolutely insane, yet completely ingenious at the same time. How had Gordon not thought of this two years ago in between my kidnappings? Maybe he had, though, but just never dared to say anything. Bruce would be livid, after all, hearing that I'd voluntarily been kidnapped again. I was slightly livid with myself for actually entertaining the idea. But there was so much good that could come out of this. I had to think beyond myself at this point and focus on what all of that information could do for this department, for this city. I could have a hand in cleaning these streets of some of the corrupt and evil that littered it. The only problem was something just didn't sit right with me about deceiving Gordon and Bruce, especially after everything I'd put them through already.

"I don't think it's right to pull this behind their back, though. What if tonight you got everything all set up. A plan, that tracking device you were talking about, all the works. We could present it to them and see what they say in the morning. Hopefully they'll agree on some level that this is a good idea," I pleaded.

He nodded slowly, soaking in this information. "Yeah, that'll work. Good thinking," he said, some of his natural color coming back to his cheeks as his excitement wore off a bit. "I'm going to go put in an order for the tracer now and have one of the tech workers get it all set up." He stood up from his seat and headed over to the door, a newfound skip in his step. "Jessica," he started, causing me to turn around and face him. "If you change your mind about this, don't be afraid to speak up, okay? This is your life we're talking about after all. It doesn't matter how anyone else feels about the plan, especially me," he explained sincerely.

I nodded, though my attitude on the subject was remaining fairly steadfast. "I will, Bartley." With my confirmation, he walked out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Even though there was a possibility I would wake up in the morning singing a different tune, I had to remember that it was finally time for me to step up and fight back. This plan definitely wasn't foolproof by any means, but it certainly had potential. After all, I was the one who was secretly dreaming of a career in criminal justice and this was my chance to make a difference.


	7. Reunited

**A/N: I hope you're all excited, because this chapter finally brings the Joker back full swing! I want to thank everyone who recently added this story to an alert or favorite, and especially thank everyone who reviewed. Please remember to drop one by if you get a chance to let me know how you feel about the chapter and give any suggestions if you have them :) I hope you all enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill!**

* * *

Sleep that night certainly didn't come easily. The cot was fairly comfortable and Nancy somehow managed to conk out within seconds of hitting the pillow. The noise from all of the officers rushing around and taking phone calls down the hall and through two steel doors didn't bother me either. Rather, the adrenaline pumping through my veins refused to go unnoticed. The past 24-hours presented yet another shift to my existence, specifically Bartley's proposition of sending me to the Joker with open arms. There were so many details that would have to be looked at to make this plan work effectively, with most of them lying on my shoulders in particular.

Naturally, there was no way I could let on to the Joker that there was a secret motive on my side of the kidnapping. He was always able to read me like an open book, so my acting skills would have to be on point to make this mission a success. Next was the whole leaving information part. The Joker was somehow always watching me like a hawk when I was with him and something told me that instinct of his would be increased drastically this time around. How would I manage to write notes and strategically place them when he was always looking? That was just something I would have to worry about when it came up, though.

The final challenge was actually the first one Bartley and I would have to face before I could even really worry about the others: convincing Gordon and Bruce to go through with this. I couldn't imagine either one of them even entertaining this notion, much less allowing it to happen. Both of them were far too overprotective of me to let it go through. Plus, they were both too proud to admit that my going voluntarily was much simpler than them being able to catch the Joker themselves. It genuinely seemed like he was untouchable by the law, only being captured when he wanted to be. I remember him telling me just minutes before his final capture took place that he was going to have to go away for awhile. He had planned on being taken in that time, just as he had the time before that. There was always some sort of master plan that only he knew about and he was just enough of a genius to make them go through perfectly. His great and terrifying mind was the scariest thing I had ever perceived.

With only about three hours of sleep under my belt, I hopped out of bed the next morning rearing to go. The shocking coldness on my feet shook my body and I hastily slid my flip flops on as I made my way to the steel door. Glancing back at Nancy, I smiled slightly at her splayed out form, glad to see that she was still lost in sleep. I knocked lightly on the door, hoping the guard on the other side would hear it. The door opened slowly, creaking with age as it did so. The guards must have switched at some point during the night since this wasn't the same guy as before.

"Thanks," I said, stepping out as he shut the door and locked it back up. "Can I go to the bathroom now?" I asked. I hadn't realized just how much I had to go until I stepped out into the hallway.

He nodded, pointing down the hall to a door at the very end. "Right through that door is the staff bathroom," he explained as he picked up a grocery bag sitting on the floor by his feet. "Here's a change of clothes for you that Mr. Wayne left, along with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and some other things. Take your time."

"Thank you," I said as I took the bag from him and made my way cautiously down the hall. All of the solitary cells I passed were empty and I wondered if they had cleared out the whole jail for safety reasons.

I pulled open the door slowly, glancing back at the officer who seemed such a long way away now. He nodded, letting me know it was safe to continue. Stepping through, I found myself in a small lounge room, complete with three couches surrounding a television set. There were Coca-Cola and snack machines situated in the corner, along with a small counter dedicated to the officers' coffee needs. In the left corner was the bathroom in question I'd been searching for. Walking over there, I turned the light on to find a pretty spacious area. Closing and locking the door behind me, I took in the shower located to the left and the toilet and sink on my right. There was a wooden shelf straight ahead of me that held numerous towels and washcloths, as well as shampoos and bottles of soap. It probably would be a pretty good idea to take a quick shower. If the plan really did go through, it was hard to say when I would be able to take one again.

After doing my business and brushing my teeth, I began to strip quickly. I turned the large knob over to the right and adjusted the temperature of the water now streaming out of the showerhead before grabbing a towel located in the middle of the pile and hanging it up on the hook beside the shower. As I was snatching a washcloth, I thanked God that there were women on the force, since I was pretty sure a man wouldn't think to have conditioner on hand. Having everything I needed, I melted under the steady stream of water, allowing it to wash over me gratefully. Focusing solely on cleaning up was a pleasant distraction from the worries I'd been entertaining all night. When I felt squeaky clean, I turned off the water and stepped out. After drying off thoroughly and applying some deodorant Bruce had graciously put in the bag, I took out the clothes he'd purchased for me. They were a simple pair of blue jean shorts, a blue t-shirt, and a pair of white "granny panties". I smirked as I pictured Bruce picking these out in particular. I ripped the tags off and through them on, just sporting my bra from yesterday again today. Stuffing my dirty clothes into the bag, I glanced around the room to make sure I hadn't missed anything. When I opened the door, my heart jumped into my throat when I saw someone sitting on the couch, police uniform and all, watching the GCN news. The man turned around upon hearing my gasp to reveal Officer Todd Crowe, Bartley's partner.

"Sorry, Jessica, I didn't mean to scare you," he said quickly, standing up to face me.

"That's fine, Officer Crowe. What's the...uh...what's the news reporting right now?" I asked wearily, walking around the arm of the couch to sit down.

"Oh, um, there have been some people calling in saying they've seen the Joker around Gotham. Several people from your apartment complex said there was a break-in there last night and we arrested some of them, but two got away. None of them were the Joker of course," he revealed disappointingly as he sat back down in the spot beside me.

I nodded, figuring that he wouldn't risk getting caught so quickly. "Where has he been spotted at?" I asked curiously.

"Well, one man said he walked into his restaurant with about four of his henchmen and ordered a whole bunch of food. Lasagna, cheese burgers, chicken tenders - the whole works," he said with the roll of his eyes.

"Guess he was pretty tired of that Arkham food," I said blandly.

"Yeah, guess anyone would be," he said. "Two of those men were identified as Cole Smith and Robert Turner by the way."

"Wow," I said, picturing the two men in my mind. I wondered how much they had changed in the past few years, hardened even more by prison life. As if on cue, two recent mugshots of them popped up on the screen alongside three men and one woman who were on the run with the Joker.

"Now, a lot of you will remember that those two men on the upper left-hand side were apart of the Joker's original posse nearing three years ago during the kidnapping case of Jessica Wayne," the reporter said before my sophomore year high school picture popped up on the screen. It was the same picture they'd used of me all throughout my case in the papers.

"You were so young there," Officer Crowe remarked sorrowfully.

"Yeah, I was," I said quietly, looking at my straightened hair and bright smile. "My mom had gone over my hair at least three times that morning with the straightener. She would start yelling every time it started to poof back up a little bit," I told with a small laugh, a reminiscent smile coming to my face.

"I remember my sisters would spend hours doing that to their hair. Took up way too much bathroom time in my opinion. Growing up in an apartment in Gotham didn't exactly give us a lot of room, especially with two stereotypical teenage girls running around," he said, letting out a deep laugh.

"I can only imagine," I said, smiling up at him.

"Crowe," a fellow officer said from the door. "Oh, Miss Wayne, the Commissioner, Officer Bartley, and Mr. Wayne would like to speak with you in the boss' office." The exasperated tone he used to say those words made me wonder what exactly the nature of this call was.

"Oh, okay," I said as I stood up. My hand was beginning to sweat from clinching the grocery bag for so long and now it was just going to get worse. Had Officer Bartley already proposed the idea? Maybe this officer was just stressed out about everything else that was going on, which was definitely likely.

Officer Crowe turned off the TV and followed the two of us out the door, down the hallway, through yet another large steel door, and into the hectic main part of the station. Phones were still ringing and voices soared around the room, maybe even worse than they had been yesterday. My heart pounded in my chest as we neared the Commissioner's office. When the officer looked down and muttered, "Good luck," to me, I knew I was in for it.

The door opened to reveal all three men standing up at opposite sides of the room. Bruce was standing closest to the door, Gordon behind his desk, and Bartley was off to the left looking like a wounded animal. When the door shut behind me, I was met with a deafening silence. Who would have ever thought I'd rather hear pandemonium over this?

"So, I'm guessing you all have already discussed it," I spoke up, feeling the bag in my grasp growing ever more slippery. I looked over at Bartley who nodded with a roll of his eyes, his hands situated on his hips.

"Jessica," the Commissioner began, but this was all he could say before letting out a breath of air and leaning forward on the back of his chair. His face was red and I could only imagine the screaming match that had just gone down. Every cop in the office outside had probably heard it, along with anyone within a ten mile radius. I was definitely glad I missed it, but felt bad for Bartley nonetheless for taking all the heat himself. Of course, that was just the first go around.

"Well, what do you two think about it?" I asked, walking over to the seat I had occupied yesterday and sitting my bag on it. I couldn't just stand there anymore: one, because it helped shake off some of the nerves I was feeling, and, two, so that I wouldn't be quite in Bruce's punching range. Not that I thought he would ever actually hurt me, but Bruce had quite the temper on him and I didn't know how he was about that whole blacking out thing some people experience during rage.

"Here we go," I heard Bartley mutter from my left.

"It's absolutely preposterous," Gordon said, sounding exhausted.

"For you two to even think something like that up is just disgusting," Bruce said, coming up to stand beside me. I glanced up to see he was glaring daggers down at me, trying to read my expression.

"I already told you two she had nothing to do with it. I just told her my idea-"

"And you should be fired for it!" Bruce bellowed, pointing accusingly at Bartley. I closed my eyes and jumped at his exclamation. I had never thought about Bartley's possible repercussions for this plan, especially losing his job for it.

"Don't be hasty, Bruce. It's definitely not anything worth him losing his job over," I said, growing more agitated by the second at his declaration.

"That's not hasty, Jessica, that's fair! Now he's planted this insane seed in your head, making you think it's your responsibility to take care of this," he yelled, hitting the back of the chair beside him and causing it to make a cracking sound.

"Because this is my responsibility!" I yelled back at him. My blood pressure had just risen like none other. "How dare you try to say it isn't?"

"No, it's not," he said, turning around to pace the floor.

"It's mine above anyone else's," I declared, turning to face Gordon. "I'm the one he wants, I'm the one he's probably going to kill countless people to get to, Gordon. Why not make everything simpler-"

"Because that's STUPID!" Bruce screamed, shaking the whole office. The noise level from the adjacent room seemed to go down drastically. I could imagine everyone crowded around the door outside listening to the show.

"It's the only plan I've heard so far that makes any sense whatsoever. Actually, it's _the_ only plan I've heard," I said, looking back at Gordon before I continued. "Look, this goes completely beyond me and the Joker here. This is something that could lock up numerous criminals in this city to help clean the streets. It will pick up where Harvey left off-"

"So that's what this is about: Harvey Dent," Bruce said, pronouncing the name like it was a disease.

"No, it's about his cause. It's about what he believed in." I had to push back the image of him lying in the hospital bed before he broke bad, a lump forming in my throat as I briefly imagined what more he could have done for this city.

"And look what happened to him," Bruce said sadly. He shook the chair lightly to make sure it hadn't broken before plopping down in it.

I studied Gordon's face as he studied mine. The look in his eyes told me I had his attention and that the wheels in his head were turning now just as mine had done the day before upon hearing this plan. "You guys would always know where I was, at every minute of every day. If something was going wrong or if you wanted to cut this mission at any time, you would have every right to do so. In the mean time, you would be arresting all of the people I gave hints about or at least investigating them," I explained.

"We'd have to be quiet about those arrests though," Bartley said, coming to stand to my left. "His henchmen or someone would start to get suspicious if the people the Joker was coming into contact with started getting locked up one by one."

"That's true," Gordon said, now studying Bartley's face.

I looked down at Bruce who was staring at me intently. "You know what I'm feeling right now, Bruce. You've felt it before, too," I said knowingly. I had the need for vengeance running through my blood, the same thing that had driven him each night he went out on those Gotham streets.

"Yeah, I know," he said quietly as he looked down at his shoes, clearly in thought. His finger was worrying his upper lip, a nervous twitch he had developed over the past few years.

"Plus, you didn't make me take those self defense and fighting classes for nothing. I know how to take care of myself and the second things started to turn sour," I snapped my fingers, "I'd be out of there."

"This is crazy," he said again with a sigh, setting his hand back down on the arm of the chair. He looked up at Gordon with worried eyes. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking..." he said, sitting down in his own chair and picking up something that looked like a small black button I hadn't noticed before. It must have been the tracer Bartley had prepared for today. "This is crazy," he said, standing back up and rounding his desk before stopping right in front of me, "yet brilliant."

I smiled slightly as Bruce stood up to stand by me. "There's no doubt in my mind that you're strong enough to do this, Jess. And I know your reasons. You're old enough now to make your own choices, just as I once did," he said, placing a comforting hand on my back.

"If this is really happening, you'll need to know how to take care of this," Gordon said, raising the little black circular device he had been toying with on his desk. "This is a tracker, invented by none other than Lucius Fox," he explained, glancing up at Bruce who nodded in response. "It is to stay on you at all times. Whether it's in your pocket or on your shirt, you are responsible for it. Without it you are lost to us," he said gravely.

"It's waterproof and virtually indestructible," Bruce explained further. "This little button right here," he said, pointing to a small crevice I hadn't even noticed before on the bottom, "is an emergency button. Whenever you feel you're in too deep, just press this button and you'll be out of there before you can even blink."

"We'll have officers near you at all times, but don't worry," he explained quickly as my eyebrows creased in question, "they'll be out of sight."

I nodded, absorbing all of this information. As long as the Joker didn't see anyone he shouldn't, it seemed everything had the potential to go off without a hitch. I certainly wasn't naive enough to place myself in a cloud of false hope, however. "Where should I keep it at?" I asked, fearing it would fall off no matter where I placed it.

"That's the problem. This device has only ever been used during a timed mission that lasted less than a day or was placed in a cellular device for long time use. You on the other hand..." Gordon said, looking up at Bartley for an idea.

"We would have to place it on something permanent, yet unseen," he said, looking at a loss.

"What if I put it on the inside of my bra," I said suddenly, causing all three men to turn a slight pink color. "Oh grow up. Come on, if you show me how to put it on my shirt, then I can go into the bathroom and put it on my bra."

"Well, actually, if you wouldn't mind a trained female officer doing it, she can place it on there securely and show you how to take it off if you ever need to," Gordon offered.

"Sounds good, let's do it," I said, eager to get the show on the road. Without any hesitation, Gordon walked over and threw open his office door. "Oh, come on now. Would you two please get back to work," I heard him grumble at a couple of officers who had been standing extremely close to the door. The rest of the station seemed to begin bustling again at the sight of their boss, not wanting to get yelled at like their peers. "Officer Wilson, can you come in here a minute?"

Just a few seconds later, a middle-aged woman with blazing red hair up in a bun appeared at the door. "What can I do for you, Commissioner, sir?"

"I'm going to need you to place this tracker on Miss Wayne's...um...her bra," he said, struggling to get out the word. I looked at her with my eyebrows raised to which she smirked.

"Alright, sir, I can do that. Just follow me, Miss Wayne," she said, trying to hide a giggle as she took the device and began walking out. I ran after her, my short legs doing their best to keep up with her long ones. "I find it hilarious how he has seen so much, yet can't talk about certainly womanly things. One day I started my period on the job and had to run into the store to buy some tampons really fast. When he asked me why a made a detour on my route, I told him. He turned as red as a beet and gave me a personal day. A personal day! As if I'd never had my period before," she said with a laugh. We were headed back down to the lounge I'd been in just that morning. Glancing at a clock on the wall, I saw it was nearing 9AM.

"Sometimes he just gets too frazzled for his own good," I said with a nervous laugh, being able to picture Gordon turning that shade all too well.

"Yeah he does," she said as we went through the lobby and into the bathroom. She locked the door behind us and turned to me. "Alright, I know this might seem a bit awkward since you don't me or anything, but trust me darlin', I have the same parts as you and I've seen it all before having worked here for ten years."

I smiled, realizing that she probably had as a police officer, which made me feel a lot better. "I bet," I said as she began pressing things on the tracker.

"Alright, sweetheart, I'm gonna need you to take your shirt off," she said as she got the tracker positioned. "Sorry if I sound a bit forward," she said with a smirk.

I chuckled as I lifted the shirt over my head, holding it in my hands awkwardly as she did her job. I merely looked up at the ceiling as she pulled back a bit of my bra and placed it on the inside. It only took a few seconds before I heard a small click.

"Good thing you were wearing a dark bra today. It blends in perfectly. No one would know it was there unless they were specifically looking for it," she said. "Now, if at any point you need to take this off, all you have to do is press that little lever there," she said, signaling a tiny piece of the device that stuck out slightly. "And that little button on the bottom facing you is the emergency button. Just press that and we'll be there to get you in a second." She turned around and began washing her hands in the sink as I replaced my shirt.

"So, how much of the conversation did you all hear out there?" I asked, my hands smoothing my shirt down.

"Enough," she said lightly as she dried her hands with a paper towel. "I think it's a very brave thing you're doing, Miss Wayne. You just have to constantly be on guard, do you understand? There are more criminals than just the Joker and even though he as bad as they come, there are some lowlifes out there," she said sternly.

"Yeah, I can only imagine what I'm going to see," I said, those familiar butterflies coming back into my stomach.

She nodded, hesitating a second before she said, "I know this is a bit inappropriate for me to say, but I have a feeling that even though the Joker is crazy, he wouldn't let any of those thugs do a thing to you."

My heart skipped a beat at her words and my face grew hot at her assumption. I merely nodded, however, not wanting to comment on it. With that, we walked back over to Gordon's office to devise a plan.

"I don't want to do anything out in public where other people could risk getting hurt," I said to the three men sitting around the desk with me.

"Yeah, me either. Drawing more public attention to this is just more bad news. This needs to be done privately," Bartley said.

We sat in silence for a minute before Bruce offered, "What about her apartment? We already know the Joker has people staking the place out. We can have an officer drop her off and she can go on up and just...wait I guess." I could tell Bruce still wasn't completely sure about this plan. None of us really were, but I knew in my heart it was the best one we had.

"What if I just drove myself? If an officer is with me, those henchmen would probably try to jump him on the spot. I don't want to risk that," I said.

"You can take an unmarked police car if you want. I honestly don't think they'll make a move on you, especially if you're by yourself. They've probably been given strict orders to contact the Joker as soon as they see you," Gordon said, jotting something down on his yellow notepad. He pressed the call button on his phone that linked to one of the officer's desks outside and requested the unmarked car to be ready outside. "What time is it now?"

"9:30AM, sir," Bartley said as he checked his watch.

"The earlier we do this the better. At least for today the Joker will be preoccupied with you for awhile. He won't want to make a scene during your capture," Gordon said as he continued to write in his pad.

"Now, am I supposed to put up a fight or what?" I asked.

"I think it would be best, so he doesn't suspect anything. Just go to your room and pretend to be packing a bag. To be honest with you, Jess, he'll probably be there in minutes," Bruce said, rubbing his temples as he fed me this information.

"Don't get too standoffish, though, because he'll probably resort to whatever method he needs to make you go with him, including extreme violence," Bartley added. At the word violence, Bruce got up from his seat and walked over to the window.

"Okay," Gordon said, glancing at Bruce's back, "I've already paged the officers who are going to be helping with this and they're in place. Mr. Fox has checked and re-checked the tracker signal and everything is showing up perfectly." Gordon picked up his phone and turned it around so I could see it. "That little green dot is you," he said pointing at the screen. "Whenever you move, we'll know it. Now, when you want to send a signal telling us you've left something at the location you're currently at, press the emergency button twice. Go ahead and test it out."

I pulled my shirt forward a bit and reached down to feel for the tracker. I felt the small red bump located on the emergency button and pressed it twice. The green dot that signaled me suddenly had a yellow dot flashing above it. "See, now that dot will stay there at that location when you move. Whenever you're safely away from it, we'll storm it."

"What if there are people there? Like, criminals?" I ask worriedly.

"Don't you worry about that. We'll have it under control. You just place the information wherever you think is safe and we'll find it by sweeping the area," Gordon explained.

I nodded, my head beginning to pound. I wasn't having second thoughts, but the closer I got to doing this, the more nervous I became. I was going to be with the Joker again after all.

There was swift knock at the door before it was opened. "Sir, we have the car ready outside." I recognized Officer Crowe's voice immediately.

"Thank you," Gordon said as he got to his feet. "This is all happening so fast."

"You're telling me," I said with a small smile that fell as I began to feel slightly queasy.

"Everything's going to be okay, Jess. This isn't at all like last time. Now, you're the one in charge," Bartley said comfortingly.

"But the Joker doesn't know that," I said, unable to relay to them just what that statement could entail. When on a power trip, it was truly terrifying to think of what he was capable of doing.

"And he can't. Not ever," Gordon said sternly.

I nodded as I stood up, trying to turn my game face on. Who was I kidding though? This wasn't some game, this was my life! "Let's go," I said, not wanting to put this off any further. Bruce still had his back turned to us, so I walked up to him.

"I still don't think you should do this," he said. "You know if you were anyone else on this planet I would force you into a room and lock you in there before you did this. Why is it I can't do that with you? You'd think I'd do it to you above anyone else," Bruce said, looking down at me shaking his head.

"I guess because we understand each other like no one else does," I said truthfully.

"I guess so," he said with a sigh. "I can't watch you drive away though, so I guess this is goodbye for now. You remember everything that was said in this room today. If at any second you want out, you just-"

"Press the emergency button, I know," I interrupted. "I'm going to be okay. This is the right thing."

"If you say so," he said as he enveloped me in a tight hug. We stood like that awhile before he finally spoke again. "You know, when I die, your Mom is going to bring me back to life, kill me again, then give me hell for all of eternity," he said grimly.

"Nah, I don't think so. She'll be too focused on giving me hell for this," I reply with a small smile. Hitting him on the shoulder once playfully, I followed Gordon out of the room, through the station, and to the car.

"Be sure to grab a notepad and pen to write your information down on. Once you start getting a feel for things there, you can begin writing the notes and leaving them. Just make sure you're comfortable first. Don't get too hasty. The key to your apartment is on that ring, too. I had someone mold it off your set," Gordon said with a smirk as he handed me the keys.

I nodded as I unlocked the door, fidgeting with the keys as I put off getting inside. "This is an okay plan, right, Gordon?" I said, truly questioning everything for the first time.

"Every plan has its faults, but then it wouldn't really be a plan if it didn't. We're all just going to play this one by ear, listening to you for further actions. Just because you won't be seeing us or talking to us, certainly doesn't mean we aren't there. We'll always be there in fact. Just remember that. You're working for a cause that's greater than all of us and that makes you braver than anyone I've ever known. Harvey would be proud," he said with a tearful smile, stroking my cheek in a fatherly gesture.

Forcing back my own tears, I hugged him tightly before getting into the car. With one last glance back, I revved the engine and turned out of the lot and in the direction of my apartment. Traffic wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would. Maybe people were just staying inside in the hopes that they could hide from all of the possible chaos The Joker was known to ensue. It wasn't fair for them to all have to get involved in something they couldn't control. Such was the life of a Gotham citizen.

I didn't bother turning the radio on, preferring the silence over any song that could be blasting through the speakers at this point. Music always made me go to different places in my mind, some good, some bad. I didn't want to risk upsetting myself any more than I already was before going into the lion's den. Taking deep, raged breaths, I pulled into the parking lot beside my complex. There were designated spots for each apartment, so whoever was staking the place out would likely guess that I or someone associated with me had just arrived. Turning off the car, I merely sat there for a few seconds. It wasn't too late to turn back after all. I could zoom right back over to the station and no one would think any less of me. Only I would. I would peg myself a coward for the rest of my life. Refusing to psych myself out, I stepped out of the car and up to the imaginary plate. The car beeped as I locked it and walked into the building. I ran up the stairs to my apartment door, feigning the act that I was just supposed to be in and out of here quickly. It wasn't until I tried to put the key in the lock that I realized my hands were shaking.

When I finally managed to get the door open I slammed it shut behind me and leaned up against it. Nerves were finally beginning to get the best of me. "Get a hold of yourself, Jessica. You're fine," I said to myself as I ran to my room, threw open the closet and hurled a duffel bag onto the bed. I frantically threw in some t-shirts and shorts, not bothering to fold them. Gordon's words about getting a pad and pen rang in my mind. I ran out into the kitchen and grabbed them out of the junk drawer. I slipped them underneath the plastic bottom before shuffling all of the clothes overtop, praying he wouldn't look under there if he searched my bag. I stumbled over my comforter as I ran to my dresser and pulled out some underwear and pajamas. I might as well go for the works. As I was throwing these inside, I heard the sound of a door coming into contact with a wall. My heart stopped, my palms going sweaty. Glancing at the clock, I saw that he had made it here in less than four minutes. I had to play this off well.

"Gordon?" I called, not having to feign the sound of worry in my voice. I already knew who this really was though.

Heavy footsteps approached my open bedroom door, which my back was currently facing. I was conflicted between turning to face it or just standing still. I felt completely numb as chills ran up my arms. My heart was pounding in my chest, my breath coming out in short and rapid spurts. The footsteps came to a sudden stop outside my door. This was it.

I wanted to turn and face him, show him I wasn't afraid. I couldn't allow this plan to make me overconfident, though. The footsteps started up again, and though they were now muffled by the carpet, I could tell they were dangerously slow. It seemed like an eternity had passed, but now his breath tickled my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I closed my eyes as two strong, thick arms wrapped around my waist. Now I was shaking all over.

"Ah, Jessica," he cooed in my ear. The sound of his voice being so close to me caused tears to sting the backs of my eyes. "Oh, you don't need to be scared," he said, his forehead now pressed to the back of my head. I could feel his head shaking as he inhaled deeply like an animal taking in my scent. "You were just nervous, and I was, too," he said quietly. It was then he turned me around slowly in his arms, my eyes still squeezed tightly. I let out a small whimper as his large hands cupped my face. "Look at me, Jess," he said lightly, but I could feel his patience waning. "LOOK AT ME!" he bellowed, that deep and demonic voice finally coming out of him.

I gulped audibly before slowly opening my eyes. His face was slightly blurry from the tears I'd been trying to hold back, one tumbling over and rolling down my cheek slowly. His thumb wiped it away quickly, his eyes rapidly going back and forth, up and down, as he took in all of my features. "So, looks like you've won again, huh?" I ask him shakily, my eyes desperately trying to blink back any more tears.

He squinted his eyes, turning his head slightly to the left, but keeping his gaze locked on mine. "See, I don't think of it that way at all," he said, smacking his lips before continuing. "To me, this is a win-win situation. You don't have to pretend anymore and I don't have to...well, chase you," he said, placing a hand to his heart. "Unless of course you enjoy that. I can play this cat and mouse game for a bit longer if you want. Of course, I'm not liable for any lives lost in the process," he said, mocking concern. His other hand stayed on my face for a moment longer before it fell.

He began looking around my room, his hand running along the edge of my bed as he walked his way around it. "So this is your place, huh? Shame you never invited me over," he said, looking back at me mischievously, "we could have had a little house warming party."

My calming heart began to speed up once again at his words. "I'm sure that would have been exhilarating," I said sarcastically, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Hmf, you have no idea," he muttered, stopping to look at some pictures on the wall. I'd bought a collage picture frame a few months prior, filling it up with old pictures of family and friends. When his back suddenly stiffened, I knew instantly which picture he was looking at. It was the one of me and my friend, Luke, during a pep rally in high school. I had my head leaning on his shoulder and his was on my head. To anyone else it would look completely innocent, but to the Joker...

His fists clenched at his sides and I could see the muscles in his arms twitching violently. Just like at Arkham the day before, I once again found myself staring at his well defined and sculpted arms, mentally smacking myself for looking at them in such an admiring way. I had to somehow defuse this situation.

Knowing it was risky, I slowly walked over onto the other side of the bed to stand closer to him. "What's wrong?" I asked innocently, my eyes going slightly wide at his rapidly changing demeanor. Following his line of sight, I saw that he was, in fact, staring at that very picture.

"It looks like you've been keeping some secrets from me, huh?" he growled, turning his head slowly to look at me. His eyes were glazed over, the color of his irises now pure black.

"What do you mean?" I asked as my eyebrows creased together.

When he takes a step towards me, I take one back instinctively. Before I can comprehend what's happening, I'm being thrown on the bed. He jumps on top of me, straddling my waist, his hands going to my throat. My hands wrap around his forearms as I gasp, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You were his slut weren't you?" he screams in my face, his grip growing tighter by the second. I can no longer speak to defend myself, so I just shake my head as best as I can. I mouth out the word no, tears springing to my eyes once more as the pain becomes almost too much to handle. When I feel myself teetering over the edge, he lets go.

Coughs come out in rapid succession as my head falls over to the side. My lungs are cursing me as they try to get oxygen back to them. When I finally feel strong enough to talk, I go into defense mode. "We were just friends. I was only 14-years-old for God's sake," I say, rubbing my throat now as I breathe heavily. Glaring up at him, I see that his eyes are still black, but that glazed over look is fading away.

"What's his name?" he asks shortly, his fists still balled up at his sides. His shoulders are still hunched towards me, signaling he could snap again at any minute and I wouldn't stand a chance.

I know I can't reveal his real last name, Adams, in fear that he'll track him down some way. I haven't spoken to Luke in almost a year and last time I checked he was going to Gotham Community College. It was just too risky. "Lukas Morrison," I say convincingly. "We were just friends in high school. Nothing more," I say, still rubbing my neck.

He continues to stare into my eyes, looking for any sign that I'm lying. When he finally seems to accept that I'm telling the truth, he reaches down and pulls my hands away from my neck. Looking up at him in confusion, my eyes go wide as his head lowers. I'm not allowed to feel any sense of relief that he's accepted my truth as he begins kissing around my neck. I can already feel the soreness growing from where his hands had a death grip and now I'm being scarred even more. He makes his way slowly across, from left to right, leaving no area untouched. I can feel my chest heaving against his as I struggle for air once more. I have to suppress a moan as he hits one sensitive area, my breath hitching in my throat. After a few seconds more, he finally stops, his face now hovering inches above mine.

"You know I'm just a jealous guy, doll face," he says, smiling widely down at me. I notice his teeth aren't nearly as yellow as they once were. I guess they cared about dental hygiene as much as they did about working out at Arkham. He sits up, clapping his hands once and rubbing them together. "Well, it's time to get this show on the road. This city has really gone to hell in a hand basket since I was last out," he exclaims as he grips my arm and pulls me off the bed with one easy tug.

I sigh, my mind slowly coming back into focus. He clutches my hand and begins leading me out of the room. "Wait," I say, glancing back at the duffel still on my bed, "can I at least take my bag with me?" He stares down at me with a look that says 'Are you serious?' "Please?" I add, staring up at him pleadingly.

He lets go of my hand and walks over to the duffel, rummaging through it quickly. Stopping, he slowly pulls out a pair of Victoria's Secret underwear and I curse myself for throwing that pair in there. They're black with pink polka dots and a hot pink lace waistband. "Did you pack these just for me?" he asks, raising his eyebrows as a smirk forms on his lips.

"Not exactly," I say, going to snatch them, but he lifts them out of reach.

"I think we'll keep these in here for safe keeping. Don't want any perverts breaking in and looking through your underwear drawer. You know, there are some real loonies out there," he says as he throws them back in the bag and zips it up. He throws the band on his shoulder and I silently thank God he didn't notice the pad and pen hidden away on the bottom. Seizing my hand once more, we walk to the living room where there's an unexpected small crowd of people. I immediately recognize three of them: Cole, Bob, and Dr. Quinzel. The latter of the three looks rather put off, her arms crossed in front of her and a deep-set frown on her face. In addition to them, there are two other men, both sporting large guns.

"Cute place you got here," Dr. Quinzel remarks as she stares at me blankly, chomping on a piece of gum.

I don't bother entertaining her smartass comment with a response, knowing she already hates me as it is. I look at Cole who gives me a small, sad smile and my heart gives a small tug as I remember everything we all went through before. The Joker treated them both like crap on numerous occasions, but I guess they didn't really have a choice in coming back with him. Even if there was, it was likely between life and death.

"Let's go, buddies," the Joker calls happily as we make our way down the stairs. I wonder how many people are staring through their peep holes right now at us or cowering in their back bedrooms after hearing the commotion coming from my apartment.

When we get outside, there are two black vans sitting in the lot with drivers ready to pull away at a moment's notice. I find myself being dragged to the first one, whose driver I recognize as the man who regulated the metal detector at Arkham. He doesn't even bother to glance my way as the Joker opens the backseat and ushers me inside, throwing my duffel bag in the back somewhere. I slide in, glaring at the back of the man's head as the Joker gets in behind me. He plops down right beside me, leaving mere centimeters between us. Dr. Quinzel climbs into the passenger seat, while Cole and Bob get in the back, so I assume the other two cronies are in the second van. As we pull off, I remember that from this point on, I have to absorb every tiny detail and discern between helpful and harmless. The first thing I have to do is learn the names of the other three henchmen in the van behind us, figuring a description of our driver will be enough for Gordon and his men to figure out a name. This is the beginning of my true test and I can't afford to mess up. As I stare at the man's face in the rearview mirror, I feel the Joker's hand rest on my thigh as he stares down at me intently. It is then that I truly realize there will be more than one test I will have to face while on this journey.


End file.
